The Fool's Trap
by prodigywriter
Summary: Sam and Dean Winchester are on a hunt to find a demon killing people using a strange ritual. They're at the end of their expertise rope when Bobby directs them to a hunter in Maryland that may hold the key. Set tentatively between Ep.11 & 12 of Season 4
1. Chapter 1

***Okay, so this is my first Supernatural story (revamped after I realized how I erroneously posted it as just one giant chapter) so please let me know what you think once you're finished. All reviews are much appreciated. There is a sort of follow-up story to this one called "On The Menu" that I will be revamping as well (apologies to those who read/tried to read while it was one giant chapter - I'm new to this thing, sorry!) that brings my character back to the boys' world. I hope you'll check that out too.***

_And of course - **Disclaimer**: I do not own anything associated with Supernatural (which is a bummer, really...) except for the creations of Reggie and Frank Connors and the use of certain demons not previously mentioned on Supernatural. Thanks!_

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**ONE**

Honey Brook, Pennsylvania

January 13th, 2009

The rain blew heavy against the windows as the storm raged outside. Janet Hardy counted the seconds between the thunder and lightning, an old habit from when she was a kid, to determine how much longer of the passing storm she had to endure. _Nine, ten, eleven, _she counted to herself. At the count of twenty-five, lightning illuminated her bedroom, throwing the shadow of the old oak outside her window across her bedroom. She pulled the covers further up around her shoulders, trying to use the heavy quilt which was a present from her grandmother for her twelfth birthday, to muffle the sounds of the raging storm outside.

_I'm never going to get to sleep_, Janet thought sadly. She glanced at the alarm clock on her bedside table, the red LED numbers showing it was two in the morning. Sighing, Janet tossed the blankets off and sat up. She swung her legs over the side of her bed, wincing as bare her feet touched the cold hardwood floor. A clap of thunder she was not expecting startled her, making her cry out.

"Scaredy cat," she mumbled under her breath. She grabbed her worn, blue, terry cloth robe off the rocking chair and headed out of the bedroom.

As she passed it, Janet caught her reflection in the full length mirror standing beside her dresser. Her shoulder-length brown hair stuck up in places and her soft brown eyes were already showing signs of the weariness she felt through her entire 5'4 frame. She reached up and attempted to pat some of her hair down, but to no avail. Giving up, she shrugged into her robe and left the room.

With a nice cup of hot chamomile tea on her mind, Janet shuffled her feet along the carpet floor in the hallway, using the friction in an attempt to warm her cold toes. She had just reached the top of the stairs when the noise started. Scraaaape, tap tap, scraaaape. _What the heck was that?_ she thought to herself. The noise raised goose bumps along her arms even under the warmth of the robe.

"Hel-lo...?" she called out shakily. There was no answer. Janet held her breath, waiting to hear the sound again. Scraaaape, tap tap, scraaaape. The sound came again. _It's got to be the wind brushing a tree branch against the window. No need to be scared, _she thought, trying to reassure herself and swallowed against the dry lump in her throat.

She started down the stairs and headed for the kitchen, throwing lights on as she moved through the house. As Janet entered the kitchen, the lights flickered briefly. She paused in mid-stride, panic rising up. She hated when the electricity went out, still clinging to the childish fear. Deciding she would feel better if she got the flashlight out of the hall closet first, just in case, Janet headed back out into the hallway just as the lights flickered again.

As Janet made her way through the living room, passing the oak tree which was now visible through the bay windows at the front of the house, the noise returned. She stopped, expectantly waiting to see the branch that was causing all the trouble. The tree moved and swayed in the wind, but the branches were being blown away from the house, not towards it. She took a step closer, hoping it was a branch she couldn't see farther up the long bough.

The lights abruptly went out and she gasped in surprise. In her blind panic, Janet stumbled forward, throwing her arms out in front of her as she tried to feel her way across the large living room, frantic to get to the closet and the flashlight. As she moved past the entryway a gust of wind blew through the open front door, catching her by surprise as wet leaves skittered towards her. "What the-" she began before a hand clamped down over her mouth. Janet tried to scream but the hand cut off any sound that might have escaped.

She tried jerking away, but a firm arm wrapped around her waist and yanked her back into the darkness. She pulled and screamed against the iron grip across her mouth, kicking her legs behind her in an attempt to get free. Janet could feel her captor's body shaking beneath her. Her hopes that her efforts were weakening her captors strength began to soar. She struggled harder with new resolve.

With horrid realization as the grip only flexed stronger, Janet realized her captor was, in fact, laughing. Laughing at her struggles, at her frantic attempts to get free. A burning began in her forehead as a deep, throaty voice started to chant in her ear. The warm breath against her neck sent shivers down her spine.

She recognized some of the words from a Latin class she had taken in her last semester of college a few years prior. _What are you doing to me?_ she pleaded silently. The hand was removed from her mouth and she tried to scream, letting loose a lungful of air that would have woken the dead had any sound been produced. Stunned, Janet tried to scream again with the same results.

Suddenly, she could no longer see even the indistinct shapes of her furniture. It was as if someone had pulled a cover down over her face, cutting everything off. She reached up, desperate to remove whatever was over her face. She clawed frantically and, as she did, began to feel a burning spread down from her forehead, towards her throat, heading to her chest.

Janet numbly felt something running down her cheek and, at first, thought it was the tears that seeped from her now blind eyes. She reached up to wipe them away angrily, felt a sting, and realized that she was, in fact, bleeding from small scrapes across her face; scrapes Janet had inflicted herself as she had tried to grab at the invading numbness moving over her.

She could just smell the metallic scent of her own blood before the burning cut off that sense too. She wept and gasped for air as the burning moved through the rest of her body, restricting her lungs. Janet could no longer hear the man and his chanting, but could still feel his grip around her waist. She was grateful for the numbness when she felt something hard at her neck, imagining the blade of a knife as he cut her.

Suddenly, as if someone had flipped a switch, all of Janet's senses came back. She could hear the man as he chanted the last part of his spell; she was sure it was a spell from the words she had picked out before she went deaf. Janet could see her living room in front of her, lit oddly as if it were cast in a flood light; could see that the rain had slowed to a drizzle through the bay windows. She could feel the blood as it poured from her neck, spilling down the front of her robe, warming her clammy, goose bump covered skin.

Janet watched as the knife she had only been able to imagine before, recognizing with a strange out-of-body sensation one from her own kitchen, plunged into her chest. The adrenaline pumping through her body numbed the pain only slightly. She cried out in a last gasp of air, tasting something familiar in the air around her. Janet could smell sweat - hers and the man who was murdering her -, her blood, and that peculiar scent in the air. _It's almost like rotten eggs?_ she thought disjointedly. Janet was grateful when the darkness consumed her again, this time for good. In the distance, thunder rumbled contentedly as the storm moved on.

**The ritual had gone off without a hitch, just as he expected. The monkey-puppets were never any fun when they hardly resisted. This one had been exceptionally feisty, though, thus making it that much more fun. Her blood had begun to pool at his feet so he took a step back, trying to avoid dirtying the expensive leather shoes his meat-suit was dressed in. He had grown accustomed to the high quality, label-obsessed garments his host had overflowing in his high-priced apartment closets.**

**The man was a partner in a law firm in Philadelphia, making a living out of getting criminals back on the streets. The criminals he represented were of industry fame, who had broken the law by trying to make their vast bank accounts even greater. Not exactly the most ruthless bunch, but evil in their pursuit of power and money all the same. **

**He noticed a small spot of blood on the arm of the tan Armani suit he was wearing and growled in anger and disgust. He'd have to throw out one of his favorite suits now. He did a quick once over, checking the light blue dress shirt and matching silk tie for any signs that they would have to go in the trash too, but found them clean. Maybe he could try the dry cleaners down the street from his meat-suit's apartment. A spot of blood on an otherwise pristine suit may just look like a paper cut or nose bleed; it wouldn't raise too much suspicion. **

**Normally he wouldn't care about appearances for the rest of the monkeys, but since times had become so much like the great war, it had become increasingly more prudent to maintain some identity of his host's. With angels walking amongst the every day, a demon needed to be wary. He sighed, more out of contentment than anything else, and moved to leave the house the way he had entered, through the unlocked front door.**

_**These monkeys really need to practice better security**_**. **_**Not that that would stop someone like me.**_** He chuckled at the thought and closed the door behind him. The black leather gloves he wore prevented the need for him to wipe away any fingerprints. There was nothing he could do about the other evidence left behind. That was unavoidable. **

**None of it really mattered to him. The local police wouldn't recognize any of the evidence for what it truly was, usually out of willful ignorance or plain stupidity. The murder would be attributed as just another crime in a world full of it. Hunters hadn't been seen in the area for a while which was part of the reason he had chosen the neighborhood.**

**He supposed one of the cockroaches might pick up on the crime and come to investigate, if, in fact, any were looking. But he was barely concerned with being discovered. Lilith would be pleased at his progress and that was all that mattered. He began to hum to himself as he strolled off into the darkness, heading for his car parked only a few blocks away.**

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_***Sept. 24, 2010 - I wanted to add a little note to the end of this first chapter after looking at some of the other fan fic on here and seeing that my stories run a good deal longer than most. I wrote both "The Fool's Trap" and "On The Menu" as tie-in novels. They are meant to be extremely long because, if printed and published they would be like the other television series tie-ins that are out there (if you aren't familiar with any of the published Supernatural novels, I recommend you pick one or two up - great reads when you're jonesing for something new during either the summer or holiday breaks!) I am an aspiring writer and these stories were my first official foray into novel length work. I hope the length won't scare too many people off because I have really put my heart and soul into these stories and want people to enjoy reading them as much as I enjoyed writing them. Thanks!_


	2. Chapter 2

**TWO**

Lansing, Ohio

January 15th, 2009

Dean Winchester was pissed and his brother, Sam, knew it. Dean hadn't spoken two words to Sam since they'd left the motel that morning. Sam wasn't sure what Dean was so angry about so it made the effort of bridging the problem that much more difficult.

Normally, silence was golden, so rare in their world that Sam usually reveled in the time he could enjoy the peace and quiet. This was not one of those times. The Impala's speakers were silent, unnaturally so considering Dean's penchant for blaring classic rock music at an insane decibel. It made the car ride uncomfortable. Sam opened his mouth to speak, then closed it, rethinking his approach.

_What the heck did I do now?_ he thought desperately.

He thought back on the last several days, trying to pinpoint a moment where he had said or done something to incur such a unique wrath. Sam had been vigilant about not using the abilities he had developed from the demon blood coursing through his veins courtesy of Azazel, the yellow-eyed demon who had killed both his mother when he was an infant, and his father only a few years ago. He couldn't see how Dean could still be upset about them.

Although Sam knew he was only using his powers to do good, Dean had been appalled and disgusted when he'd seen Sam using them. Dean hated everything connected with Azazel. Even more so when their father, John, in an attempt to save a dying Dean, had given his soul to the demon in exchange for Dean's life.

Dean hadn't taken the exchange well, which Sam could understand, but didn't completely agree with. Sam needed his brother more than he needed John and knew that, if he'd been asked his opinion, there would have been no contest. Dean, on the other hand, felt that his father had made a massive mistake. Dean had let the anger he felt over his father's trade build up over time, closing himself off from everyone around him, including Sam.

It had been hard for Sam to watch Dean drown in self doubt and pain. Especially when it was so hard for Sam to come to terms with their father's death himself. Part of him always felt like he was the one Dean should have been angry with.

Azazel had been after Sam when their mother, Mary, had walked in on the ritual that had given Sam his freaky powers. The pursuit of Mary's killer had taken control over John Winchester, sending him on an uncompromising hunt. The exchange of souls could be seen as Sam's fault as well since the yellow-eyed demon would not have been involved in their lives had he not wanted Sam.

The demon's pursuit of Sam had caused even more damage to their family even after John's death. Sam, having been picked by Azazel as one of several kids born to lead the army of demons he was going to free from hell, was was pitted against a group of these kids in an isolated town. They were told that whomever came out alive was the winner, Yellow-eyes promising rewards beyond their wildest dreams.

Sam had been killed, murdered at the hands of a kid named Jake Talley, who had believed the demon when it told him there could be only one survivor. Dean, in a fit of absolute desperation, had sold his soul to a crossroads demon in order to bring Sam back. _So I guess you could say I've killed everyone in my family, _Sam thought bitterly.

Dean had gone to hell for Sam; had spent four months in the pit, being tortured and tormented. Only recently had Sam found out any details of Dean's time down there. Time moved differently for his brother while he was in hell and, after many years of being in the pit, Dean had made a deal with Alastair, the demon in charge. He had been freed of the torture in return for torturing other souls in his place.

That knowledge-the guilt of it-ate at Dean. Sam himself could barely look at his brother for days afterward without feeling sick to his stomach. But he hadn't been sick with Dean. His brother had made a choice that Sam could condone, that he probably would have made himself had he been in the same position. Dean had made it a long time before he couldn't take the torture, longer than a lot of people. What made Sam sick was that _**he**_had been the reason for his brother's damnation, his brother's endless pain and despair.

It was hard for Sam to think about. It was part of the reason Sam had promised Dean he wouldn't use his abilities anymore, even though he'd been getting better at them. Sam had been using his powers to send demons back to hell, developing them with help from Ruby, a demon whom they had met in Dean's final year. Ruby seemed to be on the side of good, claiming to remember what it was like to be human as her reason why she worked against her fellow demons.

Even though he had been using the demon-given abilities for good, because it had freaked Dean out so much, Sam stopped to make his brother comfortable, to make Dean happy. So far, he'd been pretty good with his promise, only slipping once when, in a desperate situation against a demon who'd gotten the upper hand on Sam, he had resorted to those powers and tried to exercise the demon. Seeing the look of horror and disgust on Dean's face had crushed Sam. And the angels weren't too happy about Sam's powers either.

Sam still had a little trouble wrapping his head around that idea. He'd always believed that there had to be something out there, a counterbalance to all the evil they fought. Believed even after Dean and John had made valid arguments against the presence of angels and God. Sam had been forced to begin to doubt it when Dean died; fighting with the responsibility of his brother's death had made Sam begin to doubt a lot of things. But then Dean came back, alive and whole, and Sam had the pleasure of telling Dean "I told you so", although he'd never actually gotten to say the words out loud.

An angel, Castiel, had been the one who'd pulled Dean from the pit under orders from God. Dean was supposed to be the chosen one, supposed to stop Lilith from raising Lucifer and bringing hell upon Earth. It always impressed Sam when Castiel would appear. He was always in awe despite the messages the angels sometimes brought.

Sam sighed and opened his laptop. If he had to break the awkward silence between him and Dean than he might as well do it with something useful, like a hunting opportunity. He scanned over some documents he had saved on his laptop and opened the incomplete digital copy of their dad's journal. Sam had been painfully copying the information into a more accessible format on his computer for some time now. It had been slow, inhibited mostly because Sam constantly had difficulty translating their father's erratic writings. Sam had also found that he needed to add to some of the entries, fixing the incomplete ones.

Reading over a few notes he had put together about a string of murders in and around Philadelphia, Sam took a deep breath to steady his nerves, and began to explain the job. "So, there might be something of interest in Honey Brook, Pennsylvania. There have been two 'occult-related' murders according to local police.

"The newspapers say Janet Hardy and Robert Kligman were found stabbed to death in their homes. Both bodies were found on top of pentagrams. But who knows, without seeing the photos, what exactly was drawn on the floor." Sam paused, waiting for Dean to comment.

"Huh," Dean grunted.

"So I was thinking we could head out there and check it out. I'd really like to see what was drawn on the floor. Maybe get some more details to pin-point the ritual being used."

"Huh," Dean grunted again.

"It couldn't hurt to take a look. We've gone for less." When his brother didn't answer, Sam sighed. _It looks like I'm going to have to be direct and ask him what's wrong, _Sam thought sadly. He didn't know what to expect from his brother.

"What's going on with you, man?" There was no response. "Dean?"

"Yeah?" Dean turned to look at his brother for the first time in hours. He still had a faraway look to his eyes, like he had been deep in thought. Sam began to feel guilty. _Maybe his mood really has nothing to do with me, _Sam thought with sudden relief.

"Are you okay? I mean, you haven't said one word since we left the motel. You seem to be somewhere…far off. Did you want to..."

"No Dr. Phil moments, Sam. I'm fine." Seeing Sam's look of disbelief, Dean added, "Really."

Sam rolled his eyes, but didn't press it. He knew his brother would talk to him if he wanted to. "So what do you think about Honey Brook?"

Dean turned his eyes back to the road ahead and shrugged. "Sounds like fun. What is it?"

"A possible job? Honey Brook, Pennsylvania? I just spent the last five minutes giving you the details?"

"Right, right. Sorry. I guess I just tuned you out," Dean said with a sly smile. He reached over and twisted a knob on the stereo. A disc jockey's voice blasted out of the speakers, blabbering about some stupid celebrity news. Dean started pressing buttons, trying to find a song he liked.

Finally, after scanning through all the stations the Impala picked up, he groaned and pushed in Night Ranger's "Dawn Patrol" into the tape deck. "Sing Me Away" began to play and a stupid half-grin spread across Dean's face. Apparently whatever had been bugging him was pushed from his mind, for now.

"So tell me again - what's going on in Honey Brook?"

Sam reached over and turned the radio's volume down until it was just background noise and began giving his brother the details he had managed to dig up online again. After going through what little information he had been able to obtain, Sam paused to hear his brother's thoughts.

"So, what do you think?"

"I think it sounds like a whack job trying to get his jollies off on killing poor people and using the occult as his calling card, but as you said..." Dean paused and as if to prove he had heard Sam earlier, added, "We've gone for less."

Shaking his head, Sam pulled up a map on his laptop and began planning the best route to take. "Just stay on I-70 East for now. When we get into Pennsylvania, we can jump on I-76 East." Closing the computer, Sam leaned his head back against the seat, figuring he might as well get some shut eye. He hadn't been sleeping well, mainly because of Dean. Every time he closed his eyes, Sam would dream of his brother in the pit.

When Dean first went to Hell, Sam had had nightmares about what was happening to Dean; about the tortures he could only imagine being inflicted on his brother. They had all but gone away once Dean returned, though. Now that Sam knew more of what had actually happened to him in the pit, the nightmares had returned but in more vivid detail.

Lately, Sam had been dreaming of his brother in a different aspect; Dean with black eyes - demon eyes - torturing other souls in Hell. Sam knew it was his conscience creating these dreams, being fed by the guilt he felt even when he was awake, but it didn't make the nightmares any more bearable. The low rumble of the Impala's engine was relaxing and soon Sam's eyes began to droop, heavy with sleep. Minutes later, Sam was fast asleep, his breathing slow and steady, his dreams light for the time being.


	3. Chapter 3

**THREE**

Bedford, Pennsylvania

January 16th, 2009

Dean was tired, but he couldn't seem to fall asleep. He had his head buried deep in the cheap motel pillow, which was oddly comfortable, trying to suffocate his buzzing brain, as he lay on his stomach, trying to ignore the hum of the old heating unit pumping tepid air into the room. Sam was sound asleep in the next bed, the covers pulled up to his ears, his dark brown hair the only thing sticking out. Dean could hear Sam's slow, steady breathing as he dreamt peacefully.

Dean sighed. It was good the kid was getting some actual rest. Lately it seemed Sam was having just as many nightmares as Dean was. _When I'm actually able to sleep,_ Dean thought bitterly. He glanced over at the cheap motel alarm clock. The small clock read two-fifty in the morning. With a groan, Dean pushed himself up, throwing the covers back to free himself. He shivered as the cool air sent a chill down his spine.

"You should get more sleep," a voice stated behind him. Dean instinctively jerked around, already recognizing the voice. Castiel stood in a darkened corner of the motel room, staring at Dean with a disapproving gaze.

"Yeah, well. You could try knocking on a door once in a while instead of sneaking up on people. Sometimes you just gotta make do," Dean grumbled. He pulled on the pair of faded blue jeans that hung out of his duffle bag and shrugged on a black t-shirt, feeling a little self-conscious in just his boxer-briefs with the angel around.

"I was just checking in on you. I wasn't planning on you being awake," Castiel stated, as if this excused him. "Are you still having nightmares of your time in hell?" Curiosity and sympathy edged his question.

"Not much," Dean lied. "I just can't seem to get to sleep tonight. Not something I usually have trouble with." He plopped back onto the bed to put his boots on. He could feel the angel's stare, obviously seeing through the lie, but he ignored it. Getting up, Dean pulled on his brown leather jacket as he headed for the door. Castiel followed silently behind him. "I assume there was a reason you stopped by. Besides to check up on me, that is."

"As a matter of fact, yes, there was."

Dean waited a moment, but the angel didn't continue. _It's like pulling teeth with these guys,_ he groaned internally. "Well? Spill it." Dean knew he was being short with the angel, but he was too tired to care. He made his way across the gravel parking lot, his boots making a soft crunching sound over the cold ground.

"We believe Lilith is opening another seal in a town not far from here. A town called Honey Brook." Dean stopped dead in his tracks and turned slowly to face the angel.

"Honey Brook? Are you sure?" Castiel raised an eyebrow at him and Dean tried not to laugh at how unnatural the expression looked on the usually somber face. "That's where we're headed, actually," Dean supplied. He watched Castiel's face smooth out again.

"Sam found some stuff online about a couple of murders. The local newspaper reported the bodies were left on top of pentagrams. The details were sketchy, but we figured we'd check it out anyway." Dean slid in behind the wheel of his pride and joy: his black, 1967 Chevy Impala. Castiel silently slid in on the passenger side as Dean started the car and smiled in response to the growl of the engine.

_There's no sweeter sound,_ Dean thought contently. He patted the car's dashboard and flipped on the heater full blast. Dean, not having anywhere specific in mind and merely wanting to use the car's heater to warm up, drove out onto the highway in a general northerly direction.

"So, you think Lilith is involved with the murders in Honey Brook?" Dean asked, trying to fill the silence. If he couldn't have any music then he needed to talk. Silence made his mind wander and he'd had enough of that already.

"We believe she has demons performing certain rituals required to open a seal in the area, yes," Castiel stated. "We think it wise that you and Sam get there as soon as possible."

"Well, as soon as Sammy gets up, we'll head out. Should be there by early afternoon at the latest."

"You need to get there as soon as possible, Dean. This seal needs to remain closed. Lilith needs to be stopped."

"I know, I know. The world as we know it depends on it," Dean stated dully. He sighed as he watched the darkness creep over Castiel's eyes. "We'll head out, Cas, I promise. Just as soon as Sam gets up." Dean wanted Sam to get as much sleep as he could. If his brother didn't start getting some serious rest soon, he was going to be dead on his feet and they both couldn't afford for him to be anything less than tip-top.

"He hasn't been sleeping well, either," Castiel said. It was more of a statement than a question and it peaked Dean's interest. The angels had been peeking in on Sam, too, then. "His nightmares are intriguing, but basic. You should talk to him. It may help."

"Talk to him? Don't you think I've tried?" Dean snapped. "He won't tell me anything. Keeps saying it's nothing." Dean paused and then added in a grumble, "Besides, I'm not Oprah." He swung the car into the empty parking lot of a coffee shop. If he was going to be up then he was definitely doing it fully caffeinated. He looked over at Castiel, trying to decide if he should offer to buy the angel a cup, too.

_Never seen him eat or drink anything, but that doesn't mean he doesn't. Even an angel's gotta eat, right?_ Dean thought to himself.

Dean shrugged and got out of the car. When Castiel didn't follow, he leaned down and looked at the angel through the open door. "Um…you want something?" Dean asked, pointing to the bright shop front.

"No, thank you. But I think you should hasten your return to your brother. You need to get to Honey Brook."

"I will," Dean barked. He took a deep breath and let it out in an effort to contain his irritation. "I get the urgency, Cas, I really do. But first I need coffee. I'm running on empty as it is and without any caffeine pumping in my system, I'm going to be useless in a few hours."

"Make it quick," Castiel replied bluntly. Dean blinked once and the angel was gone.

"Never gonna get used to that disappearing crap!" Dean mumbled to himself.

Shaking his head, Dean shut the car door and strolled into the coffee shop. His nose was instantly assaulted by the strong, but enticing aroma of bitter coffee and fresh donuts. He smiled as his stomach began to growl. At the counter, a girl not much younger than Sam, smiled up at him as he approached. She was cute, with short blonde hair cut to her chin and bright blue eyes. When Dean winked at her, his green eyes taking in her slender frame behind the counter, her smile widened.

"What can I get for you?" she asked, her voice soft. She turned to the side to allow Dean an unobstructed look at the display case. Dean pretended to look over the donuts and bagels in the case behind her as he smoothly continued to check out her figure. The dark blue shirt and black pants of the uniform she wore accentuated her curves nicely, the pants just snug enough for him to make out the curve of her butt.

Turning his attention back to the task at hand, Dean looked up into the woman's eyes. "How about two large coffees-one black and the other just milk, three jelly donuts, and a plain bagel," Dean ordered, grinning at her. While the girl busied herself with his order, stealing quick glances at Dean when she thought he wasn't looking, Dean opened his phone and scrolled through his short address book, bitterly remembering the reason his phone had so few contacts.

Dean had lost a lot of the numbers he'd had, mostly one-night stands whose numbers he couldn't bring himself to delete, when another hunter, a man by the name of Gordon Walker used their phones to track them. Gordon had been hell bent on finding and killing Sam, believing him to be a kind of anti-Christ. Sam had purchased new phones and destroyed the old ones. But, in the end, it had been all for nothing. Gordon had found them anyway and the hunter had died, at Sam's hands.

The number for Bobby Singer, another hunter and a man they both knew since childhood, jumped out at Dean. He was just about to call Bobby when he thought better of it. Even though the hunter was known especially for sleeping during the daytime and working during the night, it still felt weird to Dean to call any man at three o'clock in the morning.

"Anything else I can getcha?" the girl asked. She had placed the coffee in one of those annoying gray holders that always ended up accumulating on floor of the Impala's backseat. The donuts and bagel were inside the shop's logo'ed brown paper bags, which she had nestled between the coffee cups. Dean shook his head no.

"I think that'll be it, thanks." Dean pulled out his money clip-w_ell, actually Sam's money clip,_ he thought guiltily-and handed the girl a twenty. She handed him back his change and he immediately put a ten dollar bill into the tip cup in front of her register. She smiled again, this time in thanks. Dean turned to leave, but after a second thought, turned back. "You know, I guess there is one more thing you could get me," he said, giving the girl his trademark crooked grin.

"It's already in the bag," the girl stated, blushing as she turned around to adjust the donuts, giving Dean the benefit of looking her over one last time. He placed the coffee back on the counter and opened the first bag. Inside was Sam's bagel, a single serving container of cream cheese, a few packets of butter, and a slip of paper. He reached in and removed the slip, opening it to find that the girl, whose name was Jenna, had written her number on a small piece of register receipt paper. She remained busy arranging the donuts but obviously listening to Dean's discovery .

"Thanks, Jenna," Dean replied smoothly, folding the slip of paper and putting it securely in his back pocket. He gathered up the food and coffee again and headed back out into the cold, a triumphant smile spreading across his face. As he climbed back into the car, careful not to spill coffee on the seat, Dean could feel Jenna's eyes on him. He looked up as the engine roared to life, waving once before pulling out in a spray of gravel.

Dean cranked the radio, blasting Deep Purple's "Maybe I'm A Leo", which was almost finished, through the speakers. He air drummed on the steering wheel as he drove, arriving at the motel a short time later. As Dean slipped the motel key into the lock, noises from within the room made him pause. Silently, he placed the coffee and food on the ground near the door, out of the way, and pulled out the ivory handled Colt .45 he always kept tucked in the waistband of his pants against the small of his back.

"No! Dean!" Sam cried out. Dean thrust the unlocked door open, thumbed the safety of his gun off, and began quickly scanning the room. Sam sat upright in bed, bewildered and haggard looking, rubbing his forehead with his left hand.

"Sammy? You alright?" Dean yelled. He moved through the room, gun raised, heading towards the bathroom, flicking on lights as he went.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Sam muttered. "Sorry if I scared you." Sam shivered once and pulled the covers, which had been twisted around his knees, back up. The gray t-shirt he was wearing had ridden up his back, so he yanked at it, pulling it down over his toned stomach.

"Jesus, Sam," Dean growled as he lowered the gun, setting the safety again, before putting it back in his waistband. "Another nightmare?" His eyes softened as he took in his brother's disheveled appearance. He went to stand at the end of Sam's bed.

"Yeah," Sam sighed. He rubbed his eyes more forcefully, whether trying to rub the sleep away or the echo of the nightmare, Dean couldn't tell. Sam looked wrecked. Like he hadn't gotten any sleep at all.

Dean looked his brother over, trying to decide if he should try to press Sam for more details. _It's never worked before_**, **Dean thought to himself. Dean stared at his brother, trying to read his face. _He'll talk when he wants to, _he continued, resigned.

"Where were you?" Sam asked as he looked at Dean, dressed and still in his brown leather jacket. He eyed him suspiciously and Dean smiled.

"Couldn't sleep so I went out. Got us coffee and breakfast."

"Okay, so where is it?" Sam asked, raising his eyebrows in obvious disbelief. Dean chuckled and went back outside to retrieve them from the doorway. He turned and waved the bags at Sam.

"See! Happy now?" Pulling the coffee with milk out of the holder, Dean handed it to Sam, along with one of the bags. "Got you a bagel. I think Jenna threw in some butter and cream cheese for you." He smiled as he said the coffee-shop girl's name.

"Jenna, huh? Let me guess. Not only did you get her name, but you got her number, too."

"Of course," Dean grinned as he plopped down onto the end of Sam's bed. "Now, since you' re up, get dressed. We've got to move out, pronto. Castiel stopped by while you were in la-la land and told me the angels think Lilith is up to something in Honey Brook. Apparently, you were right about the murders there."

"Another seal?" Sam asked as he pushed himself away from the pillows. He stretched his tall frame, his back cracking as he twisted out from under the covers. Dean watched as Sam grabbed a pair of black jeans and headed into the bathroom.

"When isn't it?" Dean called as he rose and began packing the room, sipping his coffee as he moved about. He was just zipping his duffle bag closed when Sam came back out. He looked a little more awake, but still tired. "Dude, you look like crap," Dean teased.

"Thanks," Sam replied sarcastically. "So, do the angels know what's going on? I mean, do they know what the seal is or what we should be looking for?" Sam finished packing his own duffle bag and zipped it closed. He froze, his arm halfway in his jacket, his other hand in the back pocket of his jeans. "Dean...?"

Dean laughed and threw Sam his money clip. Sam caught it in one hand and snapped the clip off to count the bills. "Sorry. I thought it was mine," Dean smirked.

"Sure you did. And the reason I'm short twenty bucks?"

"'Cause you bought breakfast," Dean joked, taking a giant bite out of the donut he was holding. Dean watched Sam roll his eyes which only made him laugh again.

"Right, like always," Sam grumbled. Dean watched as Sam pulled the lid off his coffee and began emptying several packets of sugar into the cup. He stirred it, took a sip, winced, and then added a few more.

"You sure know how to ruin a good cup of coffee," Dean grumbled.

Dean took his coffee like their dad did-black. Sam, on the other hand, had always needed to be as different from John Winchester as possible and thus never learned the finer things; like how to enjoy a good cup of coffee. Dean sighed and grabbed his duffle bag, heading out the door back to the Impala.

They packed the car in silence; Dean unable to think of a way to get Sam to actually talk about the nightmares. He didn't really want to press the issue since they were obviously about him. Sam had called Dean's name out so many times in the last few months it was beginning to become a little creepy. After a final once over, the training their dad had drilled into them from childhood strong as ever, Dean closed the door and followed Sam to the car, the silence stretching as they drove off.


	4. Chapter 4

**FOUR**

Gradyville, Pennsylvania

January 16th, 2009

Casey Robertson rollerbladed through Ridley Creek State Park on her usual route, exhilarated by the brisk morning air. Her auburn hair was pulled back in a ponytail and she wore her usual dark blue jogging tights and parka. Her rollerblades pounded out a rhythm that matched her heartbeat. Casey was just about ready to call it quits and head back to her car when a deer suddenly darted across her path, startling her and causing her to lose her balance. She landed hard on her backside, cursing loudly.

"Stupid wildlife," Casey mumbled as she rubbed her left wrist, which had begun to throb painfully. She'd thrown her hand out behind her in an effort to break her fall, causing it to take a lot of the impact against the frozen ground. She didn't think the wrist was broken, but it sure hurt like hell.

Casey groaned as she carefully got to her feet, trying to brush the cold, wet dirt and debris from her backside with her gloved hands. It was no use, the damp dirt already staining through to her skin. She steadied herself as best she could and looked around, waiting for more wildlife to appear.

Normally, Casey liked when she spotted the woodland creatures on her morning workouts, just more from a distance and safely out of her way. Suddenly, she realized she could hear nothing but eerie silence all around her. Shivering, Casey wrapped her arms around herself, rubbing them to get the chill off. Somewhere close by a twig snapped, and Casey jumped, almost losing her balance again.

"Someone there?" she called out tentatively. She skated forward a few inches, searching the woods around her. A few seconds later, a rabbit skittered out from under a fallen tree branch a few feet from where she was frozen and darted off across the path, back into the woods.

Casey, realizing she'd been holding her breath, let it out in a whoosh and chuckled at herself. "What did you think? That the big, scary bunny was going to eat you," she murmured to herself teasingly. She shook her head as she began making her way stiffly towards her car, all the enjoyment from her morning exercise gone. In the distance she could hear a car pulling into the parking area and relaxed a bit more. Casey waved to a man of about thirty-five who was just getting out of his car, a silver Mercedes she noted, as she entered the lot.

"Morning," he called to her. The man was dressed in gray sweats and old tennis sneakers. His black hair, speckled with gray, was cropped short, and he wore dark rimmed glasses. _Not bad looking,_ Casey thought to herself. She smiled back at the man as she clomped over to her car, pressing the button of her own car's, a red Audi, keyless entry and opening the passenger side door.

She sat down on the seat, careful to keep her parka over the soiled part of her pants, and began to untie her rollerblades. Casey saw the man wave once before disappearing down the path she had just come up. After slipping on a pair of sneakers, she pulled out an old towel she kept in the trunk to wipe off her rollerblades. Folding it so the dirt was on the inside, away from her tan upholstery, Casey placed the towel on her driver seat and slid in. She glanced over wistfully at the silver Mercedes once more.

"What the hell," she exclaimed before fishing her purse from the back seat. She pulled out a slip of scrap paper and a black pen. Casey quickly scrawled her name and number on it and got back out of the car, glancing around as she made her way over to the Mercedes. She slipped the paper under the windshield wiper, making sure it was secure and noticeable for when the man returned before returning to her car. A wide smiled spread across her face as she thought of her pertness.

As Casey started to pull out, she spotted the man in her rearview mirror as he returned to his car. Her stomach did a nervous flip when she realized he had noticed the piece of paper immediately. He looked up and spotted Casey stopped at the entrance. Smiling, he began to walk towards the back of her car. "Oh, god," Casey squealed. The man waved once as he approached the driver's side and she rolled down the window.

"Hey Casey." The man's voice was low and husky, reminding her of an actor whose name she couldn't recall. _Something Diesel_, she thought to herself. Although Casey thought the man was an awful actor, he was certainly just as nice to look at as this man.

"Hi," Casey replied. She smiled again and could feel a blush color her cream complexion. They stared at each other for a few moments, neither seeming to know what to say.

"I'm not usually this forward," Casey explained, desperate to break the awkward silence.

"And I'm not usually so easily flabbergasted," he chuckled. "I just didn't expect a beautiful woman like you to leave _**me**_ her number. I'm not that lucky." He laughed again, but something about his smile suddenly made Casey extremely uncomfortable. It didn't seem to touch his eyes.

"Yeah," was all the response she could muster. Casey turned her attention back to the road ahead of her, hoping that the man would notice her discomfort and let her escape. Instead, he placed his hand on the door, curling his fingers over the spot where the window would come up, and leaned inward. Casey stared at his fingers, grimy and covered in dirt, as if she might be able to shove them away with her mind.

"It's going to be a shame about this car," the man said nonchalantly. Slowly, Casey tore her eyes away from the dirty hand on her car to the face it belonged to. The smile was gone now and in its place was something twisted and ugly. Gone was the suave man whom Casey had felt compelled to give her number.

"Excuse me?" she whispered, barely able to speak.

"I mean, I suppose I could find something useful for it. Maybe give it to a friend. But it's going to be a bitch getting the blood out of this tan interior." The man leaned forward as he said this, practically inside the car with her.

"What...?" was all Casey managed to get out before, quick as lightning, the man's hand whipped up and across, slicing her throat in an instant. Blood poured from the wound and a gurgling sound escaped from between her lips as Casey tried to breath. She placed her hands to her throat, trying to scream, to stop the warm flow that escaped through her fingers. She gaped at him, confused and panicked, her eyes pleading. The man stood watching all of it with a serene look on his face.

**Finally, the woman's head bowed forward as her eyes glazed over. Her mouth hung open in a silent O, making her look like a Kewpie doll from the sixties. He looked around quickly to confirm he was still alone, despite already knowing it, then opened the driver's side door, and turned off the car. In one swift movement, he unbuckled the woman and dumped her onto the ground, gravel and dust scattering around his shoes.**

**"Well that wasn't quite as fun as the last one," he mumbled to himself. Although, the woman leaving her number had been a nice inflation to his ego. It was good to know his job could be easier if he just worked his meat-suit a little more. **_**I can get the damn monkeys to just line up and die**_**, he thought blithely. **

**He pushed up the sleeves of his already sodden sweatshirt and reached down to drag the body out of the way. **_**Nice looking form for a puppet. Too bad I have no use for it,**_** he thought snidely.**** He dragged the Casey over to the trunk of his car and hoisted it up, careful to keep the plastic lining sheet he had set up inside underneath the body. He slammed the trunk and winced at the thunderous noise it made as it echoed off the trees. **

**He crossed back to Casey's car and climbed in behind the wheel, needing to slide the seat back to accommodate his host's longer legs. He started the car, smiling at the comforting purr of the engine. Luxury cars were a weak spot for him. "Humans can be so ingenious," he said to himself as he listened to the steady thrum of the car.**

**He drove into a secluded area of the woods and turned off the car. He hesitated again with the door open, straining to hear anything that might indicate the approach of people. He was rewarded with blissful silence. His feet made a squishing sound in the blood that had pooled in the upholstery as he climbed from the car. Shuddering, he sighed, feeling remorse only for the waste of the car; a car he would have happily taken, too, if he could have. **

**He parked it out of the way, hoping that the distance from a major trail would help keep the car from being discovered for awhile. Evidence was going to begin piling up, unfortunately coming back to his meat-suit. He wanted to be finished with the task Lilith had set him before the bumbling police were able to gather enough leads to point back to him. By that time, he would be long gone, inhabiting another monkey until Lucifer was upon the Earth. He smiled at the thought. The monkeys would be ripe for the picking then. He wouldn't have to hide, wouldn't have to be so careful. **

**He strolled casually back to where Casey had stopped her car and began kicking at the dirt. He had carved a pentacle into the ground in order to complete the ritual. Although he didn't care if it was completely gone, he still wanted to conceal the pentagram enough so that it might not be noticed right away.**

**He looked around for a moment, taking in the silence. It seemed even the animals knew danger was in the area. He laughed at the thought. Pulling out his car keys, he got in behind the wheel of his meat-suit's Mercedes, and headed out of the park. He began whistling to himself as he drove off, the body in his trunk shifting slightly with the acceleration. **


	5. Chapter 5

**FIVE**

Honey Brook, Pennsylvania

January 16th, 2009

"Ooh, do you think we could stop and get a cheesesteak? I've always been a sucker for a Philly cheesesteak!" Dean bounced from foot to foot in an effort to keep warm as Sam bent over the lock to Janet Hardy's back door. Sam rolled his eyes at his brother, smiled in triumph as he heard the click of the lock, then stood up, twisting the knob and letting the door swing open.

"No, Dean, I don't think we'll have time. Besides, Philadelphia is a couple of hours away and we're on a hunt. Not exactly the time to be doing a taste-tour of the city," Sam grumbled as he pulled out the penlight he always kept in his pocket and motioned for Dean to go in ahead of him.

"Actually, Philly's only an hour away. Half an hour with me driving," Dean stated as he took first position and entered the dark house. Sam gawked at the back of his brother's dark blonde head.

"How," was all he managed to choke out.

"I used your computer and, whaddya call it - Googled it." Sam could hear the smirk, even without being able to see his brother's face, and shook his head.

"You promised you weren't going to touch my computer anymore," Sam hissed. His brother had once again crashed Sam's laptop while trying to look at yet another pornography website. It had taken Sam almost a week to get his computer in working order after the last time.

"Consider it payback for defiling my car with an I-pod," Dean replied, shuddering on the word I-pod, as Sam moved ahead of him. They moved through the house in tandem the way John had trained them to.

"It was my car, Dean. I was just giving it some more modernized comforts," Sam hissed back as they entered what appeared to be the living room. Some of the furniture had been moved around, probably by the police, making the space seem strange and misshapen. Sam moved to the front and began searching the floor, spotting the pentagram easily, just off the front entryway. He bent down and ran his finger over it. "It's painted on."

"That takes some time to do," Dean said as he bent down beside Sam. "Which means that whoever or whatever it was that painted it was in the house for a while." Sam watched his brother's face as it went from contemplative to angry as he spoke. Sam flicked his penlight around the room, not really looking for anything specific. As he moved his light over the front door, past all the crime scene tape, he spotted a light dust he would recognize anywhere.

"Well, it was definitely a demon," Sam stated as he rose and strode over to the doorway.

"How do you figure?" Dean asked, following behind him.

"Sulfur." It was all Sam needed to say. He used a pocket knife to scrape some off the door handle and showed it to Dean.

"Son of a bitch," Dean exclaimed. Sam wiped the knife off on his pant leg and moved around his brother. He headed upstairs, avoiding a small, dried pool of blood as he circumvented the pentagram on the floor. Finding nothing unusual, he started back down the stairs. Dean came out of the kitchen as Sam reached the bottom stair looking only slightly less enthused then he had outside. "Find anything?"

"No, you?"

"Nothing. Although, I wasn't really expecting to since it looks like the ritual was confined to the living room and entryway. We should get over to the Kligman residence tonight, while it's still dark. See if we find the same thing there."

"I'm betting yes," Dean grumbled. They headed back outside and climbed into the Impala. The heat pumped happily out of the vents and Sam placed his hands directly in its flow in an effort to warm them. After giving Dean directions to Robert Kligman's house, which was a few blocks away, Sam started sketching the pentagram on a sheet of notebook paper. _It doesn't look familiar,_ he thought as he stared at the page. He supposed there were still some he had never seen before but decided that maybe a call to Bobby when they got back to the motel was in order.

* * *

They searched the house in record time, finding the pentagram, carved this time into the hardwood floor of the dining room, and more sulfur, this time on the large cherry-wood dining table. There was even more blood at the second house. Sam's stomach churned uneasily as he remembered the details from the police report they had procured a few hours before.

It had been some of the most gruesome pictures they had ever seen, and, considering the fact that they hunted some pretty gruesome things, that was saying a lot. Dean drove the car back to the motel while Sam sat in silence going over the details in the reports. They were staying at a Holiday Inn not far from Janet Hardy's address and had luckily gotten a room that looked normal compared to some of the more eccentrically decorated motels they'd been in.

When they got back to their room, Sam plopped into the chair in front of the small desk where his laptop lay. He pulled up the file labeled "Dad's Journal" and started looking at the pentagrams they had already logged. Dean shrugged out of his jacket, tossed it onto his unmade bed, and went straight into the bathroom. He hadn't said a word to Sam since they'd left the Kligman house, but music had blasted from the Impala's speakers, easing some of Sam's worry.

Sam could hear the water running from behind the closed door as he scrolled through countless pages of information, even pulling up a few websites to reference as well. He couldn't find the pentagram, or the ritual it could possibly belong with, anywhere. He was going to have to call Bobby. Sam pulled up Bobby's number on his cell phone and was just about to dial it when he heard a loud crash from inside the bathroom. Scrambling out of the chair, he rushed to the bathroom door. "Dean...?" he yelled, frantically pounding on the locked door.

"Easy, Sam. I'm okay." Dean opened the door and smiled sheepishly at Sam. Behind him, Sam could see the broken mirror, shards of glass scattered across the counter and in the sink.

"What the hell happened, Dean," Sam asked, anger rising in his voice. He thought he already knew the answer, it was evident from the scene behind his brother, but he wanted to hear Dean say it.

"I punched the mirror. No biggie," Dean stated as he shrugged, pushing past Sam.

"Don't be ridiculous. You just put your fist into a mirror, Dean. I think that qualifies as a big deal," Sam argued. Dean plopped onto his bed and pulled an issue of Hot Rod magazine off the nightstand. He began roughly flipping through the pages.

"Let it go, Sam," Dean growled.

"What the hell is going on with you, man?"

"I was just having a moment in there, alright. It's no big deal."

"You've been having a lot of these "moments" lately. I guess I should just add this to the top of the list then?"

Dean groaned and rolled his eyes. "Geez, Sammy, you sound like a girl with all this whining. I'm fine, not even a scratch on me." He showed Sam his hands as if proof. "I just needed to hit something." Dean slammed the magazine closed and threw it on the bed at his feet. "Would you rather it have been you?" He glared at Sam, waiting for his brother's response. Sam glared back, too angry to answer.

Finally, as he watched a smile tug at the corners of his brother's lips, Sam gave up. "Fine. Alright. Whatever." Still glaring at Dean, he sat down on the edge of his brother's bed, took a deep breath, and decided to change the subject. "I think we need to call Bobby. I've been through every page of dad's journal, been over everything dad's ever seen or heard of. I've even checked out a couple of websites. I can't find a ritual to match that pentagram, or even the pentagram, anywhere. Maybe Bobby will be able to dig something up."

"Sounds like you have it all under control," Dean said as he got up from his bed. He grabbed his jacket, pulled it on, and fished his car keys out of a pocket. "Tell Bobby I said hey when you talk to him."

"Where are you going," Sam asked. His brother stopped at the door and grinned at him. "No, wait. Let me guess. That bar we passed a few miles back?"

"Yup," Dean smirked. "You should come with me, have a few beers. You can call Bobby from the car."

"No, thanks. I'm going to dig around some more. It's bugging me that I can't place this pentagram." Sam went back to staring at his computer screen. He heard Dean leave, shutting the door behind him. A few seconds later, he heard the Impala peel out of the parking lot. Sam sighed as he reached for his cell phone and dialed Bobby's number.

"Hey Sam," Bobby greeted him, picking up after only the second ring. "How's it goin'?"

"Hey Bobby. I actually have a favor to ask..."

Sam detailed the job and the problems they had run into identifying the ritual and pentagram. After he finished, Sam hesitated, trying to decide if he should mention anything to the older hunter about Dean's latest mood swings. "What else is botherin' you, Sam?" the hunter asked.

Sam knew he could count on Bobby to be objective. He was basically family, after all. He had really helped both Sam and Dean after their dad's death, giving them a place to stay while Dean rebuilt the Impala and the need for space to cope with the whole ordeal. Bobby took on the role of father figure for them in the year before Dean went to hell, offering his support whether on a hunting job or not. Bobby had tried to be that again for Sam when Dean went to hell, but Sam had had a hard time being around anyone. He still felt awful about the way he had cut Bobby out during that time. He should have known Bobby would pick up on his hesitation.

"It's Dean. He's been acting a little strange, lately."

"He's always been a little strange, but I'm guessing you mean somethin' different," Bobby replied. He waited for Sam to continue.

"Okay, so maybe I should say he's been acting stranger than usual. He punched the mirror in our motel room tonight, Bobby. The other day, he barely said two words to me. Finally, I couldn't take the silence anymore and I brought up the job we're on now just to get some kind of response out of him. It's like his fuse is short or something. He's blowing up and closing off more and more nowadays. I know I may just be reading too much into this," Sam sighed.

He felt paranoid, even a little crazy. If Dean knew he was talking to Bobby - "whining like a little girl" as his brother would say - Dean would kill him. But Sam needed to talk to someone and Ruby had been keeping her distance lately. Ever since the showdown with the angels in the barn that night with Anna. It had also been the same night Dean found out how much moer involved Sam and Ruby had gotten while he was in hell.

"I can see where your concern is comin' from, Sam, I do, but Dean has a lot goin' on. It's not every day someone gets yanked out of hell by an angel and told he has to save the world. He's got to be thinkin' through some heavy stuff. Just give him time to work through it. He'll be alright."

"Yeah, I know." Sam sighed and slumped against the back of his chair. "I sound like a chick, don't I? Sorry."

"No need to apologize, kid. You're worried and that's understandable. Just try not to let it get to you too much."

"Thanks for listening, Bobby. I'll fax over that sketch in a few minutes. If you find out anything..."

"I'll give you a call," Bobby finished for him. "I know the drill. And if you boys need anythin', don't you hesitate to call."

"We won't. Thanks again, Bobby." Sam hung up feeling slightly better than he did before the phone call. Talking to the older hunter always helped and he felt another twinge of guilt. Life may not have been so hard had Sam let Bobby in, but it was the way Sam had wanted it. It was his fault Dean was in hell and he deserved to suffer in agony every day for it.

Sam hated to admit it now, but he'd had a death wish; he'd wanted to die rather than live without Dean. _It seems to be a sick, ironic pattern with us Winchesters_, Sam thought bitterly. It had been a bad couple of months and it would have killed Bobby to see Sam the way he was. Ruby had shown up just in time, in more ways than one, to rescue Sam.

Sam headed for the motel's front desk, surprised and grateful to find the woman who had checked them in earlier still at the desk. He knew it would be easier to use the fax machine himself with the woman there. She smiled at him as he entered the lobby, her dark brown eyes lighting up the same way they had when he'd walked in to book the room.

Sam had become more aware of women's attraction to him since being around Dean. Before, he never would have noticed how the woman, Sue according to her brass nametag, fluttered nervously at the counter while he had filled out the paperwork; how she said his name, currently David Mills, in a hushed manor, making her husky voice even lower. He noticed now how she flipped her long black hair off her shoulders as he approached the desk.

"How can I help you, Mr. Mills," she asked, smiling at him expectantly.

"I was wondering if I could use your fax machine for just a minute," Sam asked, giving his infamous puppy-dog eyes. He knew Dean would be rolling with laughter if he could see Sam's sorry attempt at flirting. Sue reached her hand out to take the paper he held and frowned when Sam kept hold of it. "Actually, it's kind of personal. I was hoping I could do it myself." She looked at him for a moment then shrugged.

"Alright, I guess." She motioned for Sam to come around the edge of the desk. "Just dial nine first to get an outside line, then the number," she instructed.

"Thanks.

Sam carefully slipped the paper into the fax machine and dialed Bobby's fax number, making sure to keep the sketch out of view. Sue hovered behind him, pretending to busy herself with paperwork. Once the confirmation page printed out, Sam thanked her again and headed back to their room. He could hear her sigh just before he rounded the end of the hallway. _Maybe I should call Dean and have him come get me,_ Sam thought as he entered the quiet room. _I could use a cold beer._

"Hey Sam," a woman's voice said from the darkening room, startling Sam. She stood silhouetted in the bathroom doorway.

"Ruby? What are you doing here?" Sam tried to keep the enjoyment her appearance gave him from his voice.

"Just checking in. I heard murmurs something was going on in the area and figured I'd check it out myself. Looks like you beat me to it." She smiled lightheartedly at Sam.

"Yeah, well, we were given a little push. Castiel showed up earlier and told Dean that Lilith's up to something," Sam explained as he sat down on the end of his bed. Ruby sat down beside him and he could feel the warmth radiating off the body she was inhabiting. He gave her a half smile.

"So the angel thinks Lilith's in the area?" Ruby shuddered slightly when she mentioned Castiel.

"Well, they think she's planning something. According to Dean, they think she's trying to open another seal."

"What do you think?" Ruby had learned to read Sam well in the months they'd spent together. Sam smiled again and shrugged.

"I don't know. Maybe. I can't seem to find anything on this pentagram that we found at both scenes. Nothing on a ritual anywhere that uses it. I just sent Bobby a sketch of it to see if he can find anything. It's strange and I've seen a lot of strange." Sam handed Ruby the paper. "Have you ever seen it, or anything like it, before?" Ruby stared at the paper for a moment, her face thoughtful.

She shook her head. "No, I can't say that I have." Sam stood up roughly, frustration making him want to pace. He could feel Ruby's eyes following him as he moved. "Sorry," she added.

"It just doesn't make sense," Sam cried. "I've been through every website imaginable, every piece of my dad's journal. Bobby said it didn't sound familiar to him either. How is it that no one has ever seen this damn thing anywhere, ever?" Sam was ranting and he knew it. He tried to take a deep breath.

"Easy, Sam. It's not like there's ever been anything like this attempted before. Raising Lucifer from hell by breaking sixty-six seals? That's some big, crazy, scary shit," Ruby said. It helped having her there. It calmed him a little. It was a weird relationship, Ruby being a demon and Sam being a hunter, but it seemed to fit. They had been through a lot together, even before Dean went to hell. Sam trusted Ruby, even if Dean didn't.

"Thanks," he said as he turned towards her. He smiled again and she smiled back. "I think I just needed to vent a little. Sorry it had to be at you."

"No problem. It's not like I haven't been at the brunt before," she joked. Sam smiled at her, a true smile this time, and laughed.

"Yeah, I guess you have. You in the mood to go get something to eat?" Sam's stomach began to growl at the thought of food.

Ruby shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I guess. Let's go." She took Sam by the arm and led him out of the room. They boosted a car from the parking lot, planning to have it back before the owner even knew it was gone, and headed out in search of a decent place to eat.


	6. Chapter 6

**SIX**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 17th, 2009

Jack Sherman opened his briefcase with shaking hands and slowly removed the Smith and Wesson 431PD revolver he had put inside it early that morning. The gun felt cold and hard - heavy - in his hands. He took a deep, shuddering breath and pulled back the hammer, jumping a little when he heard it click into place, the gun cocked but with the safety still on. His hands fumbled slightly as he tried to thumb the safety without making too much noise.

_If he hears me, I'll never get a chance to use this darn thing,_ Jack thought as he frantically glanced up.

Jack gazed through his office's glass door at a man who stood talking to his receptionist, Holly. The man appeared to be flirting with her, his back to Jack. He was tall and dressed in an expensive looking charcoal grey suit that complimented his silver-flecked black hair.

Jack supposed the man would be considered good looking. The way Holly was throwing her wavy brown hair over her shoulder as she giggled at whatever nonsense he was feeding her, made it clear Jack's receptionist thought he was. _He must have his normal face on,_ Jack thought, _because she wouldn't be acting that way if she saw the face __**I've**__ seen._

He shivered, and after finally managing to get the safety off, shut the briefcase and placed it on the floor where it leaned against the side of his desk. Still holding the gun, he slid his hand under the top of his desk and tried to put on a calm expression. A second later, his intercom buzzed, making him jump and almost drop the gun.

"Mr. Sherman, I have a gentleman here to see you," Holly's tinkling voice announced. "He says his name is Walter Conroy and that you would be expecting him."

"Yes, yes. Send him in," Jack stuttered.

There was a pause as Holly took in her boss' unusually nervous manner, then he saw her rise and lead the thing pretending to be Walter Conroy to his office. Holly opened the door, obviously brushing her slender frame against Conroy, as she held it open for him. Conroy beamed at her. Even from where Jack sat, he could see the smile did not meet the steel gray eyes behind dark rimmed glasses.

Walter Conroy turned his smile on Jack as Holly quickly left them alone, closing the door behind her. Jack tried to smile but felt it falter on his face. "Mr. Conroy," he said as he extended his hand to offer the man one of the black chairs in front of his desk. He remained seated in order to conceal the hand holding the gun and hoped Conroy wouldn't notice the difference in his routine.

"I thought I told you to call me Walter." Conroy sighed. He remained standing. "Why so nervous, Jack?" He grinned sadistically at Jack then, no longer in the mood for pretenses. "I'm disappointed in you, Jackie," Walter said, clicking his tongue in a tsk-tsk sound.

"You-you are? Wh-why?" The gun grew heavier in Jack's hand and his palms began to sweat.

"Because all I came here to do was talk and you came with a loaded gun? To what? Kill me? How will that look to your partners? To the fellow co-workers buzzing about just outside that door?" Walter paused as he pointed to the office door.

Jack watched as one of his partners, Anthony Cipriani, walked by, out to lunch, as usual, with his wife. He could feel sweat budding at his temples and above his quivering upper lip. He was suddenly ice cold and his breath came in a ragged hitch. _Could I kill him?_ Jack thought desperately. Was the monster standing before him, looking serene and certain, right in his assumption of Jack's cowardice? He gulped, trying to force down the lump that had risen in his throat.

"I-I _**can**_ do it," Jack said shakily and raised the gun. He used both hands in an effort to steady them, but the gun continued to jerk erratically anyway.

"That's so disappointing, Jackie. I thought you were smarter than this. And here I was, hoping we could keep our little arrangement for a just bit longer. A shame really." Walter took a step forward.

"Stay back!" Jack shouted, but Walter took another step towards him, a twisted smile spreading across his face. Jack gasped and instinctively squeezed the trigger.

The shot was deafening in the small, closed office and the smell of gun powder burned his nose. Jack could hear people screaming and yelling, but it all sounded far away, as if from down a long tunnel. The body of Walter Conroy staggered backwards and clutched his chest where a small hole had appeared. Jack couldn't believe his shot had actually hit the man, but was glad it had. He didn't think he had the guts to pull the trigger a second time.

"Dammit! This is a three thousand dollar suit!" Walter roared. Jack stared in horror, struck dumb by fact that the man was not dead, or even appeared to be hurt for that matter.

"I-I shot you. Why-how-how come..." Jack stuttered.

**"Because you're an idiot!" Walter spat. He strode forward in three quick steps, ripped the tilting gun from Jack's lax fingers, and, in a swift, fluid movement, cocked and fired the gun into the frightened man's head. There was more screaming and Walter could see the panicked people trying to run for the exits.**

**He took a deep breath, inhaling the smell of gun powder and blood. It wasn't a distinctly unpleasant smell to him; he had become accustomed to much more contemptible smells during his last stay in hell, but his nose crinkled anyway. He glanced down at the small round hole that had been blasted through his meat-suit's chest and groaned as he saw the damage done to the expensive suit.**

**"Dammit,' he growled again. In the distance he could hear sirens and cursed his stupidity. **_**I shouldn't have antagonized him,**_** he thought idly,**** chuckling lightly. **_**B**__**ut it was kind of fun watching him squirm. **_**"Ruined a good suit," Walter mumbled aloud. He sighed and, realizing the sirens were louder now, threw open the office door with such force that it shattered, before melting into the crowd of screaming, fleeing people. **

**Once outside, Walter pulled his suit jacket tightly closed in an attempt to hide the bullet hole and jogged to his car. The sooner he was out of the eye of all these monkeys the better. He slipped in behind the wheel of his silver Mercedes and eased out of his parking spot. He could just see the lights of the police cars as they screeched to a halt around the building where the law offices of Sherman, Cipriani, and Schwartz were.**

**Lilith was going to be displeased with him after this catastrophe. The fact that a man had walked out of an office, apparently unaffected by being shot, would surely catch the attention of the loathsome Winchester boys. Walter knew they were currently snooping around the bodies he'd left behind in Honey Brook. He would have to fix his current blunder in some manner before reporting back to her. He shuddered, in fear this time, at what Lilith would do to him when she heard about today's mistake. **

**He drove easily through the city, heading to his apartment to change, trying to think of a way to rectify the current situation. Walter had just turned onto South 25th Street, heading to the large building that contained his current host's home, when she appeared beside him in the car. A small, fair girl of no more than seven with wispy blonde hair, dressed in a pink frill dress and matching patent leather shoes regarded him from the passenger seat. The normally soft, angelic-like face was twisted and hideous to Walter's eyes.**

**"Hello, Lilith," he nodded at his leader's current form. **

**"That was very rash of you, Malphas. I'm very disappointed," she chided. It sounded absurd coming out in the melodic voice of the small, human child sitting beside him. "I thought you knew better than to upset me." **

**"I was reckless in dealing with Jack Sherman the way I did, I admit, but the puppet's use no longer served us. He was getting careless and paranoid. I told you he was weak." He glanced at the small girl, looking for her reaction to his defiant attitude. "If I may say so, sooner or later the Winchesters would have made a connection that would lead to him and he would have spilled everything. I merely removed that possibility." Walter eased into his assigned parking spot and turned off the car. The silence was maddening, so he turned to face Lilith to watch her reaction. **

**"You were hasty and foolish, Malphas, but you have a point. Those insipid Winchesters are not totally doltish. They'll figure out what I'm planning all too soon. Why should you help them any more?" She was swinging her dangling legs and playing with the bottom of her dress. It would have been cute to anyone else who couldn't see the monster beneath the facade.**

**"I suppose I'll pardon you this mistake. After all, you are rather important to me, Grand President." Lilith climbed up onto her knees and kissed him on the cheek. A shiver ran down his spine, but Walter quashed the sensation to keep from giving away his current discomfort. She smiled at him, already aware, and then flopped back into the seat. **

**"Now, how about we go upstairs to your meat's apartment and you can make me a giant ice cream sundae?" Lilith scooted out of the car and skipped to the front door, humming as she waited for him to follow. He hurried to catch up, trying to determine if Lilith was just setting him up, giving him a false sense of security. He shuddered again as he thought about what he'd seen Lilith do to other demons in his place. Walter stood, holding the door open for the most appalling little girl on the planet, smiling down at her. **_**You really are the most evil,**_** he thought to himself. **


	7. Chapter 7

**SEVEN**

Honey Brook, Pennsylvania

January 18th, 2009

Dean hadn't meant to meet that girl, whose name he could no longer remember, and stay out all night. _Jessie or Jaime or something like that. _He knew better than to do stuff like that while in the middle of a hunt. It was distracting and stupid. It usually caused more problems than it helped, but Dean had needed some release. _And Janie,_ he suddenly remembered, _was just what the doctor ordered_. Dean rubbed his bloodshot eyes and steered the Impala into an empty parking spot. He turned the car off and laid his head back against the seat, closing his eyes for a moment to relish in the silence.

It was rare for Dean to actually enjoy moments like this. Usually they were filled with memories of his time in hell; the atrocities he had endured and the ones he had inflicted on others. He was appalled at himself, disgusted by his weak will. Sam was too, even though he would never admit it. Dean could see it in his brother's face, see the disgust and disappointment behind his soft, hazel eyes. He didn't blame Sam, but he was grateful Sam never said anything out loud. Dean didn't think he could take hearing Sam describe just how repulsed he was by his brother.

_How can anyone believe I am capable of saving the world? I'm a monster. I've done monstrous things both in hell and on Earth. How can anyone, let alone God, just overlook that?_

Dean sighed and pushed himself up. The sun, shining brightly through the windshield, had warmed him considerably, even though his thoughts had turned cold. He scanned the parking lot out of habit and spotted Castiel, dressed in his usual dark blue suit under a tan trench coat, his tie slightly undone and his light blue dress shirt wrinkled. The angel was standing near a dark blue Toyota Camry. _How long has he been standing there?_ Dean thought, aggravated. He rolled his eyes and got out of the car.

"Hey Cas," Dean called as he crossed the parking lot towards the angel.

"Dean," the angel nodded back.

"So what brings you around this time?" Dean leaned against the car next to the angel, trying to keep his tone light as his thoughts continued to swirl in darkness.

"It appears Lilith's plan is more widespread than we thought. There have been two more murders since you and Sam have arrived here in Honey Brook."

"What?" Dean shouted, shoving himself away from the car. "When?"

"Relax Dean. The murders happened a few miles from here, in a Philadelphia park and law office, respectively. The second appears to be a bit more suspicious as there was no ritual used. It's a bit strange." Castiel looked at Dean and sighed. "There would have been no way for you to have stopped them, Dean. You can't save everyone."

Dean glared at the angel. "Then why the hell am I even here, Castiel? I mean, God ordered you to pull me from the pit to save the world, to save _**people**__._ So far, I've managed to screw that up each time you've come to me. I don't seem to be making a great case for keeping me on Earth, do I?"

"I cannot question God, or give answers for Him, but He has _**faith**_ in you, Dean. Faith you seem to lack in yourself. You..."

"Save the crap, alright," Dean interrupted. "I've heard you spout it before." When the angel shook his head, Dean growled in frustration.

"Look. I've never believed in God and now I'm expected to accept that He has been watching out for me, that He _**believes**_ in me to save the world? To stop Lucifer - _**the**_ _**damn Devil**_ - from walking the Earth and destroying humanity?" Now it was Dean's turn to shake his head.

"That's not something anyone can get used to in only a few months. Not after living their whole life thinking The Big Man never cared," Dean growled. His hands were clenched into fists, his breath quick, anger warm in his cheeks. He was seeing red, as the phrase goes, and it felt good to finally let it out. Castiel stood watching Dean with a slightly amused expression on his face. Dean glared at him, waiting for the angel to speak.

Finally, he could see the angel had been expecting this and was letting Dean vent. Castiel wasn't going to argue or try to reason with Dean. "Alright. I'm good," Dean said, taking a deep breath and letting it out slowly to help ease him into a calm.

"Good. You should get Sam and head to Philadelphia. We think Lilith may actually be in the city, so it's prudent that you get there soon."

"Really? Lilith, in the flesh so to speak, in Philly? You think she'd be that stupid to hang around?"

"Lilith is anything but stupid, Dean. There must be some reason she's chosen to stick around. That's why it's imperative you and Sam get there. This may be your chance to stop her for good," Castiel stated. The angel briefly glanced around before turning back to Dean. "I have to go now. Hurry Dean. It may be your only shot." There was a bang, as if from a backfiring car, and Dean turned instinctively towards it. When he looked back, the angel had disappeared. Dean rolled his eyes at the dramatic exit, before starting for the motel.

As he walked through the motel lobby, a heavy man with dark russet skin and deep brown eyes looked up. "Excuse me. Are you Mr. Mills?" the man called to him. Dean paused, trying to remember if that was the name Sam had used to register the room with. _Last time I let Sam pick the aliases_, Dean thought petulantly.

"Yeah, I am. Why?" He eyed the man suspiciously, hoping it wasn't an issue with a rejected credit card.

"Well, this fax came through for you about an hour ago. I tried ringing your room, but no one answered," the man said, showing the sheet of paper he was holding in his hand. Dean walked over to the desk.

_Where the hell is Sam?_ he thought angrily. Dean took the paper, noticing some scribbled information in Bobby's familiar scrawl around a copy of Sam's sketch of the unidentified pentagram. The man behind the counter looked a bit perplexed, but didn't ask Dean any questions. _Smart man_, Dean thought, smiling at him.

"Thanks," Dean grunted, giving the man a small wave. He headed down the hall to their room, concern rising in his stomach. _I s__hould have called Sam_, Dean thought, angry at himself. _Or at least he should have called me. _Dean could feel his concern for his brother's safety turning into dread as he thought about Castiel's news. Maybe Lilith knew they were in the area and had made a preemptive strike.

Dean quickly slipped his keycard into the lock and heard it beep as it unlocked. "Sam?" he called into the darkened room. He heard a muffled groan and his stomach knotted instantly. He flipped the light switch on and began scanning the room, looking for his brother.

"Turn the light back off," Sam grumbled from his bed, his head tucked under one of the beige motel pillows. Dean relaxed as he took in his brother's form, lumpy under the sheets of his bed, his hair ruffled from sleep.

"When the hell did you start sleeping past sun-up?" Dean asked as he threw the blinds open on the long window beside his empty bed.

"Well, since I stayed up until six-thirty in the morning doing research on a job I'm _supposed_ to be working with my brother. Who, by the way, didn't bother to call to say he wasn't coming home last night," Sam muttered, still trying to keep the light from reaching his half opened eyes.

"It's not the first time and certainly not the last," Dean stated shortly. After a minute, Sam turned over onto his back and bunched the pillow behind his head. He looked at Dean, but said nothing.

"Sorry," Dean apologized. Sam still said nothing.

Remembering the fax from Bobby, Dean showed it to Sam. "Bobby faxed this over this morning. Front desk said they tried ringing the room, but you weren't picking up since your head was obviously buried in down," Dean teased. He sat down on the edge of Sam's bed and handed him the paper. Sam pushed himself up, rubbed his eyes as he tried to get them to focus, and squinted at the scribbles.

"Doesn't look like he had any luck either," Sam groused. "He was able to identify some of the runes inside the pentagram, but they appear to be from several different rituals. There's nothing specific to link it with anything," Sam observed, turning the page to read each of Bobby's individual marks as he spoke, his face scrunched in frustration.

"That doesn't make any sense."

"Yeah, tell me about it. Bobby basically found out exactly what I did. Although, he did figure out what this rune here is," Sam said, showing Dean what looked like a weather vain. North was topped with a skull and East and West had been replaced with what appeared to be the letter B and a backwards S.

"What the heck is that?" Dean asked, certain he had never seen anything like it.

"It's called a Veve." When Sam caught Dean's blank stare, he elaborated. "It's voodoo. It's used to summon various Loa or spirit deities. It just doesn't fit with the rest of the symbols, though. See this here," Sam said, pointing to another symbol in the pentagram, "this is the symbol for a Pagan blood ritual. And this," Sam pointed to another one, "is The Sword of Power."

"So where does the voodoo come in? You don't usually see pagan symbols mixed together with this stuff?" Dean was as confused by the first symbol as the last one Sam showed him, but he tried not to let on.

Dean never cared enough to fully understand the pentagrams he would draw to perform exorcisms or certain rituals. He just drew what his dad, or Sam after they started hunting together almost three years ago, told him to, performing the rituals as they instructed. Sam and their father were always the ones more interested in the why's and how's. All Dean wanted to know was that it sent the damn things back to where ever they came from, preferably for good. He had had to learn some basic Latin and that was enough, in his opinion, to do the job.

"It doesn't and that's what's got me and Bobby stumped," Sam mumbled, now completely lost in thought again. Sam loved the research, lived for it. It had bugged their father that Sam was such a devoted book worm, never really interested in learning the physical aspects and running the obstacle courses John would set up for them in preparation to be hunters.

Sam got up from the bed and absently moved over to his laptop, mumbling to himself. Dean sat watching his brother for a few more minutes then decided he was going to go take a shower. When he remerged almost an hour later, feeling somewhat relaxed from the hot shower, Sam was still sitting in front of his computer, a look of deep concentration on his face.

"Find anything new?" Dean asked, already knowing what his brother was going to say.

"No. Although I found a website that has some interesting voodoo rituals we may be able to use later," Sam said, looking up at Dean for the first time since he'd handed him the fax. "You look like you're going to fall asleep standing up, Dean," he stated. Dean's eyelids began to droop heavily at the mention of sleep.

"Yeah," he yawned loudly. "I could really use some shut eye, but we gotta hit the road. There were two more murders in the last day, just outside of Philly."

"Where'd you hear that?" Sam asked, spinning back to his laptop and pulling up websites for a few of the local news stations and newspapers, scanning them for information.

"Castiel showed up right before I came in. The angels think Lilith is actually there, in the city. We should head out soon, try to make a few stops and gather some info." Dean yawned again and his eyes blurred. He blinked to clear them and found Sam staring at him.

"Why didn't you say anything before? If Lilith's in the city, we may be able to find her and stop her before she finishes whatever this is. Maybe even stop her for good."

Dean shrugged. "Well, I kind of got distracted. What with worrying about my idiot brother. And then said idiot brother went into this kind of trance and has been glued to his computer for the last hour and a half," Dean stated with a grin. "Would you have heard me even if I had said something?"

"Probably not," Sam relented. He smiled at Dean before adding, "but _my_ idiot brother should have tried anyway. You know taking down Lilith is the main priority here, Dean."

"I know. That's why we need to pack it up and head out." Sam nodded his head in agreement, stifling his own yawn, and got up from the desk. Dean began packing his things as Sam went in to shower. While Sam was in the bathroom, Dean pulled out his cell phone and punched Bobby's number. The phone rang several times before the hunter's answering machine picked up.

"You've reached The Singer Salvage Yard. Leave your info after the beep," the short message instructed. Dean left a brief message letting Bobby know that they'd gotten his fax, that there were some new murders linked to the pentagram, and that they were heading to Philadelphia to check out the possible lead Castiel had given them on Lilith. Sam came out of the bathroom in a wave of steam just as Dean put his phone back in his jeans pocket. After giving the room a final once over and signing the room bill, Dean followed Sam outside to the Impala.

"Hey, Sam," Dean called out as he reached into his jacket pocket and pulled out his car keys. "You drive," he said as he tossed them at Sam. Sam caught them easily and grinned, a slightly shocked look on his face. "I'm gonna catch some z's." Dean dropped into the passenger seat and waited until Sam had pulled out of the parking lot before sliding down in the seat and closing his eyes. "Wake me when we get there," he mumbled, already in a doze.

* * *

Almost immediately, Dean fell into a familiar nightmare. Alastair, whose demon face had been replaced with the man whom he had inhabited the last time they'd run into him, stood over Dean's half naked body with a small vial of acid. He grinned sadistically and dropped a stream of liquid onto Dean's exposed stomach.

Dean howled in agony. He writhed and jerked, trying to get his hands free from the shackles that bound him, but to no avail. Alastair's deep, cruel laugh echoed within Dean's head, pounding on his brain.

"Sammy!" Dean yelled his brother's name endlessly through his raw throat, his voice broken and hoarse.

"He can't save you, Dean. No one can and no one wants to. You're here for the long haul, boy. Mine for eternity if I choose. I can give you a way out of this pain, Dean, just say the word."

"NO! NO, I WON'T DO IT! YOU KNOW WHERE YOU CAN SHOVE YOUR OFFER, ALASTAIR!" Dean screamed at the demon.

Alastair shook his head in dismay, making a tsk-tsk sound as he did. "That's such a disappointment, Dean. I bet you'd be good at this job. Just like you were good at your last one. Maybe better." With a growl, he emptied the entire bottle of acid onto Dean's stomach. The skin bubbled and fizzed, hissing as the acid ate through the layers of tissue. Dean cried out again, wishing for an end to the pain.

He began to sob as he watched Alastair produce another bottle of liquid from thin air and began pouring the acid over Dean's skin again, this time onto his chest. The smoke from his burning flesh wafted into his face from an unpleasantly hot blast of wind. Dean gagged and tried to hold his breath, but the burning sensation was too much and a shriek of pain broke out of him.

His resolve, his willful defiance of Alastair, was beginning to weaken. Dean could feel it, the need to be free of this agony, building within him. _Any more of this and I don't think I can last_, he thought dejectedly.

"Come on, Dean. Just take my offer. You've lasted longer than any demon thought possible. A lot longer than even I thought possible," Alastair hissed into his ear. His words brought Dean's resolve back with a vengeance.

"Go screw yourself, Alastair!" Dean spat at the demon. Alastair laughed at Dean and dumped the entire bottle onto his chest, watching the bubbling skin with twisted glee. He followed it with another bottle and another until all Dean could do was whimper, his voice almost completely gone. "Sammy," he moaned, quietly.

"Dean? Come on, man, wake up," Dean heard distantly.

"Sam?" Dean moaned again. "Oh god, let this be over." Alastair's human face became a blur as Dean's eyes filled with tears. He closed them and began to cry, "Oh god, Sam, I wish..."

"Come on Dean, please wake up! You're just having a bad dream, man. Wake up, dammit!" Dean was roughly shoved and his eyes flew open. Bright sunlight blinded him instantly and he blinked rapidly, trying to adjust them. "Dean, are you okay?" Sam's voice was thick with worry.

"What?" The nightmare had been so real. _Was it really just a stupid dream_, Dean thought groggily.

"Are you okay? You were thrashing around and yelling."

"I'm fine. Just dreaming, I guess."

"You scared the crap out of me," Sam stated.

"Sorry," Dean murmured. He noticed Sam's concerned expression and added, "it was nothing, really. Just a nightmare, that's all."

"A nightmare, huh? About your time in hell?" Sam probed. Dean looked around. They were pulled to the side of the road, cars whizzing past them.

"When you want to tell me about yours, I'll tell you about mine, alright?" Dean snapped as he pushed himself up. Sam immediately turned his attention back to the road and Dean rolled his eyes. _Thought that's how you'd react, _he thought childishly. Sam pulled the Impala back onto the road, taking advantage of a brief break in traffic, keeping his eyes focused ahead.

"Not exactly fair," he mumbled. Dean smirked at his brother, but didn't reply. The radio played Black Sabbath's "Embryo" softly in the background. Dean reached over and cranked the knob, blasting the song and killing the silence. He knew there was no way he was going back to sleep for a long while so he figured he might as well enjoy some music.


	8. Chapter 8

**EIGHT**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 18th, 2009

It took them almost three hours to get to the law offices of Sherman, Cipriani, and Schwartz. There had been a pile-up on I-76, which had backed up all the routes Sam could find on the map. Sam's knees popped audibly as he climbed from the Impala, happy to be able to finally stretch his long legs. His ears still rang from the music Dean had blasted to keep from having to talk about his horrible nightmare.

Sam shuddered as he remembered how his brother had whimpered and called out his name while in the midst of the dream. It scared Sam more than he let on as he watched the agony and pain flit across his brother's face. _I did that to him_, he thought. He headed to the trunk of the Impala. Spotting Dean looking at him as he got out of the passenger side he tried to smile at him.

"I hate traffic," Dean grumbled, his gaze flickering away from Sam's quickly. He pulled out a bottle of holy water from the trunk and handed it to Sam.

Luckily, the law offices had been closed since the shooting the day before, the street seeming to be less traveled now because of it. Sam took the sawed-off shotgun loaded with salt rounds Dean handed to him and tucked it under his arm, pulling his jacket over the gun to conceal it. They headed around to the back of the office building, still trying to avoid attracting much attention. They found an unlocked maintenance access door in the parking lot and squeezed inside.

"The offices we need are on the fifteenth floor," Sam said as he pointed to a series of small bulletin boards.

"Looks like we're going to have to hoof it. They must have shut the elevators down," Dean said as he pressed the Up button several more times in frustration. Sam shook his head at his brother's juvenile persistence and headed in the direction of the stairwell. He relished in this kind of physical activity after sitting in the car for so long.

_You'd think that after all the years I've spent cramped in that car I'd be used to it by now,_ Sam thought passively. He jogged up the first couple of flights and then stopped, waiting for Dean to catch up.

"Having trouble keeping up, old man?" he teased. Dean looked up, glaring at him.

"Shut up," Dean growled as he stomped up the stairs.

Sam chuckled to himself, knowing why his brother had reacted so childishly; age had become something of a sore spot for Dean ever since a girl he'd been trying to pick up at a dive bar a month earlier had referred to him as "too old" for her. Sam had laughed for days at the horrified look on Dean's face. Dean began to mumble incoherent expletives as he clomped up the stairs after Sam.

"Finally," Dean cried as they reached the fifteenth floor. Sam chuckled to himself and tried the handle, finding the door locked. "Please tell me you brought your tools. Because I am not trudging my ass back down these stairs again unless it's to leave!"

Sam began patting his pockets in mock embarrassment, then smiled and pulled out the small black pouch he carried his various lock picking tools in. "Of course," he smirked when he spotted Dean's aggravated expression. After picking the lock to the outer door, he disabled the alarm system, and began to pick the lock into the central offices. It took only a moment to get the door unlocked and they entered, pulling out their penlights and guns. They began scanning the room carefully.

"Well, I guess we know where all the action took place," Dean stated, a few minutes later. Sam followed his gaze as Dean nodded towards an office set across the aisle from where they stood. The office door had been shattered and there was something splattered across the glass wall left standing. Sam took a step closer for a better look and realized immediately that it was blood and brain matter.

"Gross," he grimaced. "Looks like whatever went down was bad." Dean moved into the office ahead of him, completely unfazed by the mess.

"Well, it looks like Mr. Jack Sherman had a very bad day," Dean said as he stood next to a large oak desk scattered with papers. He bent down, pulling out his pocket knife, and scratched at something on the edge of the desk. He sniffed it and grimaced. "Sulfur! That's just freakin' great!" he exclaimed as he wiped the knife off. Sam stepped into the office and shuffled around the opposite end of the desk to where Dean stood, sidestepping an overturned briefcase. "Looks like Castiel was right about this being unusual. Demons don't tend to kill people in broad daylight."

"Not usually, anyway. They are demons, though. Murder and mayhem are kind of their deal," Sam said as he looked around the rest of the office. "But I know what you mean. There's no pentagram, no obvious signs of a ritual. There has to be some reason behind this guy's death."

"Let's get out of here. There's nothing of any use and I'm starving," Dean stated. _Never phased by anything, _Sam thought, rolling his eyes at his brother. Sam tried to delicately circumvent the chaos around him, but forgot about the briefcase and tripped, kicking it hard. The briefcase opened and the papers inside spilled out onto the floor. There were several glossy Polaroid photos inside that caught Sam's eye.

"Look at these," he said as he picked them up off the floor. "They look like surveillance photos." Dean took them from Sam and flipped through them.

"Well, that's what they look like. They definitely weren't taken by a professional, though," Dean observed. "Who the hell is this guy?" he asked absently, pointing to a tall, dark haired man wearing glasses and expensive looking suit.

"Something tells me we need to find out," Sam said as he tucked the photos into an inside jacket pocket. He bent down and began shuffling through more of the papers. He pulled out a printout of information on a man named Walter Conroy. "This may be the demon we've been looking for, Dean. This has details on his personal life; from his residence down to the last time he went to the doctors. It looks like he hasn't been to work at least since the first murder in Honey Brook."

Suddenly, a piercing screech echoed through the building, startling them both. "What the..." Sam said, his voice muffled by the racket. An alarm had been set off on a floor below. Quickly, Sam and Dean gathered as much of the documents as they could and headed back out the way they came. As they reached the Impala, they heard police sirens in the distance. Dean sped away from the curb and turned onto a side street just as the first police cruiser arrived.

"That was close," he muttered as they watched more cruisers screech to a halt, their lights swirling red and blue into the interior of the Impala. They remained parked, watching the melee. About an hour later, the police began to pull away one by one.

"What was that about," Sam mumbled as they watched the last cruiser pull off and disappear out of view. They'd waited as the police searched the entire building, watching as their flashlights bobbed in the windows of each floor.

"I don't know, but let's get out of here," Dean muttered. He looked lost in thought. Sam sighed and began flipping through the papers they had stolen from Jack Sherman's briefcase. There were more photos stuck throughout showing Walter Conroy entering a gym and a ritzy apartment building.

"There are a lot of pictures of Conroy coming and going from this building. It's got to be where he lives," Sam said, showing Dean the pictures.

"I say we pay Mr. Conroy a visit." Dean pressed on the gas and sped around a corner.

"I think it might be better if we wait until tomorrow, Dean. We've already had one close call with the police tonight. Let's not push it."

"Okay, fine. Then let's find somewhere to set up shop."

Sam, having already planned ahead, had found an abandoned apartment building not far from the law offices after researching some of the local motels and hotels. He figured it was more prudent to slum it while in the city. Getting away with credit card fraud was easier when the places were small and low-tech. Sam directed Dean to the building and they parked the Impala a block away in an empty lot. As they walked to the building, Dean jumped at the sound of a car backfiring a few blocks away, making Sam chuckle.

"Relax, Dean. I think the car will be fine for a few hours," he laughed.

"This is Philly, Sam. They have gangs here and my girl is a jewel in the slums. So if we come back and anything, _**I mean anything**_, has happened to her I can beat on you, right?" Dean hissed.

"If you're that worried, why don't you just sleep in the damn thing?" Sam replied. _You can be so ridiculous, _he thought to himself.

"Don't tempt me. If I see one suspicious looking person, I'm coming back for her." Sam rolled his eyes and led the way across the street. Once inside, Dean insisted on setting up in a room where he could see the parking lot. They started taping the surveillance photos, and other documents they'd stolen, on the walls along with the limited information Sam had dug up on the pentagrams. Dean was beginning to get on Sam's nerves, rushing to the window every time he heard the slightest noise.

Finally, Sam couldn't take it any longer and he snapped. "Why don't you just go get some food, Dean?" Dean stopped in mid-stride to the window, after what sounded like a car with a bad muffler drove by, and turned to look at Sam.

"You know what? I think I will." He grabbed his keys and his leather jacket and was out the door before Sam even had a chance to respond. Sam crossed to the window to watch his brother jog to the Impala. He groaned loudly when Dean made a complete circle around the car, looking for any signs it had been touched. A moment later, he climbed into the driver's side and peeled out of the lot in the big, black car.

Sam stood at the window for several minutes just staring out into the night, before finally turning back to the wall covered in information. "I just don't see the connection between this Sherman guy's death and the others. There was no ritual at his office. There seems to be no connection at all with any of the victims," Sam phone rang, pulling him from his thoughts. "Hello?"

"Hey! So I forgot to ask if you wanted anything to eat," Dean yelled into the phone, trying to be heard over the blaring music. "I found this burger place a few blocks down and the food smells delicious so it has to be at least kinda good." There was a pause, then he added, "Ooh - they have pie!"

"Just get me a turkey club," Sam yelled, trying to get his brother's waning attention. He was suddenly ravenous and wished he'd gone with Dean.

"Turkey club? What a pansy..." he heard Dean grumbled before hanging up. Sam went back to looking at the wall, his thoughts still on his hunger.


	9. Chapter 9

**NINE**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 18th, 2009

**The damn Winchesters had been snooping just like Lilith thought they would. Malphas had set off an alarm in the travel agency offices on the eleventh floor, trying to get them caught. They still had outstanding warrants on them even though the FBI agent, Victor Henrickson, had claimed they were killed in the siege on the police station in Monument, Colorado and were listed as dead. It wouldn't be the first time the police believed Dean had faked his own death. But the damn cockroaches had gotten away and now they were out there somewhere with important information about his meat-suit. **

**How long would it take them to figure out what was going on, what was residing in Walter Conroy's body? Not long given their history. They weren't dumb as Lilith liked to remind him. They were the best hunters Hell had seen in a long time. They had exceeded their father's reputation long before John Winchester had given his soul to Azazel in an attempt to save Dean. **_**Dean sure found out just how angry the demons in hell were thanks to them,**_** Malphas thought, chuckling to himself. **_**How I wish I could have been there for that torture.**_

**Lilith was right about his mistake, too. He had been careless and now it was going to cost him a perfectly good meat-suit. **_**Oh well. Nothing I can do about it now. **_**He had to leave soon, he knew that. It was only a matter of time before demon-boy came in search of a demon to exercise. Malphas shuddered, knowing that even Lilith was afraid of Sam and his gifts. She had tried to kill him once before and was astounded to find that she couldn't. **_**What did you do to him, Azazel?**_

**He was pacing inside his apartment, wishing he could get in contact with Lilith; to warn her that she had to move on, too. They probably already knew she was in town thanks to the stupid angels. Malphas looked to the sky, wishing he could pull one from Heaven and rip it apart. **_**That time will come, **_**he thought happily.**

_**Once Lucifer rises, the heavens will fall and the birds will be free-range. Just line them all up for destruction. **_**Malphas smiled at the thought. He hoped to have his chance at Uriel. He had business with the angel, business he wanted to settle badly. But Lilith had ordered the stay of his hand and he didn't want to disobey as much as he wanted the bird's cosmic head on a stick. His retribution would come once Lucifer walked the Earth. Malphas sighed and knew the time had come for him to move out, so to speak. He had enjoyed being inside this meat-suit and hadn't had time to find a comparable new one yet, but the Winchesters were too close. **

**Malphas pulled himself out of the body, the force of it like a sucking from within, and watched from above as the used body crumbled to the floor. The man's soul had long since departed, too tired to fight against the demon inside with him. It had served its purpose well. He moved off, feeling light after being in a body for so long.**

* * *

There really was no explanation for her being late. _It takes exactly twenty minutes to get from her apartment to the restaurant_, Doug Princeton thought angrily. His girlfriend, Lori Donnelly, was infamous for being late, but he never got used to it. It was starting to put a strain on him. Doug was impeccably punctual, something ingrained on him during his brief stay in the Army.

He had received a dishonorable discharge after his temper had gotten the best of him and decided that he was of better use in a position that allowed him to vent that anger. He had bounced from job to job for a while, finally finding the perfect job as a bouncer for a local night club. He was able to smack around all the smartasses he wanted and not have any trouble with the cops.

Last night had been very therapeutic. A young, cocky, Asian kid had been trying to sneak past him while he let in a few gorgeous-looking women. Doug had been caught up in watching the red-head in the group sauntered by in her short, black halter dress and the boy had almost gotten by. _If he'd kept his mouth shut, he would have_, Doug thought bitterly_._

The kid had called to his friends in line that he'd see them inside and Doug had spun around, grabbing him by the collar. The kid had tried to push Doug off, but found out quickly that that was something not easily done to two hundred and seventy-five pounds of muscle and bone. The kid had managed one good swing, connecting with Doug's chin, before he'd been put down. The police were called and they listened to Doug's side of things, which had been slightly different then what actually went down.

Doug knew that he had to lie, if just to cover his own ass. No one waiting in line would risk not corroborating Doug's account after watching him beat on the kid, so the police had taken the kid to the hospital and Doug had gone back to work. "Stupid, punk..." he mumbled as the waiter returned to the table for the third time.

"Will your guest be arriving soon, sir?" the man asked in a condescending tone.

"Better be," Doug grumbled. Something about the look on his face must have sent a warning to the waiter because the man backed off immediately, mumbling about coming back later. Doug glanced towards the door to the restaurant as it opened and growled when a couple, not Lori, entered. He shoved himself from the table, stomping off towards the bathroom.

_The bitch better be here when I get back, _he thought to himself as he slammed through the door. An older man, in about his late sixties, stood at a sink. He jumped at Doug's loud entrance and rushed from the bathroom, avoiding eye contact. Doug smirked at his reflection in the mirror as he walked over to one of the white sinks. Gripping the edges of the basin, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. He couldn't afford to lose his temper in front of everyone in the restaurant.

Doug noticed the reflection of something in the mirror out of the corner of his eye and looked up. A cloud of black smoke was billowing from the air vent above the bathroom door. "What the hell..." he managed before something struck him as odd. The smoke didn't look like it was being blown from the vent, but pulling itself from it.

Doug turned to get a closer look and the smoke was on him, surrounding him so fast he barely had time to cry out. The cloud, because there was no other way to describe it, began to choke him. It forced its way up his nose and down his throat, cutting off his air. Doug tried to grab it, clawing at his throat in an effort to clear his airway, but it was no use. He slumped forward, falling to his knees, his eyes blurring from lack of oxygen.

Just as suddenly as the cloud had taken him, it was over. He could breath and his vision was clear, but something was off about the way Doug felt. It was like he was floating, buoyant as if lying on his back on the waves of the ocean. His vision was slightly tunneled, like he was looking through a telescope or a rifle sight.

_What the hell is going on?_ he thought wildly. He tried to move his body, to clear his throat, or make some kind of small motion but found that everything felt like dead weight. Doug's legs would not respond when he tried to stand, his arms stayed clutched to his face as they had been while the cloud invaded him. _I'm paralyzed, _he groaned.

"No. You're not," a voice stated. With horror, Doug realized the voice was his own. His lips moved yet he didn't command them to.

_What the hell is going on? _he thought frantically. He watched in the mirror as his body rose and strode forward, his walk slightly stiff.

"This body is going to take a little getting used to," his voice stated, his lips forming each word. "I think I like it though. All this power, all these muscles." In his head he heard a chuckle. _I'm going crazy, _Doug yelled.

"_**No, you haven't gone insane**_,"a new voice, this time internally, replied. It was an odd experience, hearing another voice inside his head. _This can't be happening_, Doug thought.

"_**Oh, it's happening. It will be much easier if you just give in to the pull you feel. Give in to the need to be free. I'm much too strong for you to fight. It's easier to just give up, Doug**_," the voice replied.

Doug was suddenly overwhelmed with the feeling of lightness as the words sunk in. He could tell that this entity, whatever it was, was much stronger than he was, just as it said. No sooner did he recognize this fact then everything changed. Suddenly he was floating again, this time above his body, watching as it stared into the mirror. He felt light, free of all the anger and rage that coursed through him on a daily basis. He was happy, floating above his body for what seemed like hours. He watched as his body looked up at him.

"**You really should have tried harder to hold on, Doug. You haven't exactly been a model monkey. That man you killed last year? The one you beat with your bare hands, his teeth rattling around inside his head long before you stopped hitting him, was a good man. He had a wife and three kids, all girls, who depended on him for their livelihood. You should see them now, Doug, living in the back of their minivan. You killed that man for what? Because he looked at you the wrong way when he passed you on the street. You followed him all that way just to tell him how much that bothered you? Your temper always got the best of you, Doug, and now you're going to pay for it. Wait until you see what's waiting for you**," his body stated.

Doug felt a sharp tug from his middle and looked down, the bathroom tiles no longer there. He hurtled downward and then felt a sharp pain as something snagged him in his back. He twisted to fight back and found that he couldn't turn. The pain intensified and spread and Doug saw chains pierce his flesh, which was once again hard and physical. He screamed and heard what sounded like millions of voices echo his own. _Oh god, am I in hell?_

"Yes," a voice hissed in his ear. Doug turned his head and found himself staring at the most hideous thing he had ever seen. He began to shriek, his voice strained and strange. The face laughed at him as it pulled out a long, silver blade and began hacking at his flesh.


	10. Chapter 10

**TEN**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 19th, 2009

"I'm guessing no one's home," Dean stated. Sam stood holding the buzzer down next to the sticker that labeled Walter Conroy's apartment. _The kid is way too uptight_, Dean thought to himself. The building's security was too tight and there were too many people out at the time for them to attempt a break-in.

"We have to get into this building, Dean," Sam exclaimed as he pressed the buzzer again. Dean rolled his eyes and reached out, pulling his brother's finger off the buzzer. "What are you doing?" Sam snapped.

"I'm trying to save you from a life of trigger-finger arthritis!" Dean rolled his eyes. "What the hell do you think I'm doing? We aren't getting in with a welcome, Sam, that much is obvious. So now we try with a little finesse." Dean hopped off the step and strolled back to where they'd parked the Impala, listening to Sam's footsteps following behind him. He pulled open the passenger side door and grinned at the slightly confused look on his brother's face.

"I suppose you have a plan brewing in that twisted brain of yours," Sam asked.

"Always do," Dean said, giving Sam a slightly bemused expression. He reached into the glove compartment and pulled out the faded cigar box that held their various fake . "We're going incognito!" He produced a small I.D with Peco Electric Company stamped on it.

"Got this baby working a job with dad about seven years ago. A nasty poltergeist was holed up in this old house on Arch Street in Old City. We got the call from a friend of dad's hoping we could make some headway. The hunter was hired by the owner's niece, but the damn old lady who lived there wouldn't let anyone in to help. So dad conned her with these beauties and we exercised the sucker." Dean shut the car door. "We'll need to get one made for you, of course. And some uniforms." Sam took the badge from Dean and began inspecting it.

"This is actually a really good forgery," he stated as he flipped it over. Sam laughed at the picture Dean had used. Then he spotted the name. "John Carpenter?"

"What? I was going through a phase," Dean explained. "Hey, you know what? I just thought of the name we're going to use for you." Dean smirked devilishly at Sam.

"Okay, what?" Sam asked suspiciously.

"Stevie Wayne," Dean replied with a grin. He could see Sam trying to place the name and waited, expectantly. _I'm going to love this_, Dean thought humorously. He was holding his breath, trying to control the laughter from bursting out.

"Okay. I can live with that," Sam finally said, nodding his head. Dean started to chuckle despite himself. As if a light had gone on in his head, Sam glared at Dean. "Wait a minute. Wasn't that the name of the one chick in the movie The Fog?" Sam asked, eyeing his brother. Dean couldn't control himself any longer and began laughing hysterically. This confirmed Sam's guess and he groaned. Dean bent over and gripped his knees, gasping for air, as tears streamed down his face. "It's not funny, Dean. Why do you always have to do that?" Sam hissed petulantly.

"Because it's so damn funny," Dean wheezed through a renewed fit of laughter. Sam pushed him and he slumped against the side of the car, still shaking with laughter.

"Would you pull yourself together. People are starting to stare," Sam grumbled. Dean looked around and saw that Sam was right; people were casting anxious looks in their direction. Seeing this helped bring Dean around. Slowly the fit let up and he was able to breathe again. He wiped his eyes in an exaggerated fashion and then swiped the badge from Sam's hand.

"Let's go find a Kinko's to make another one of these," Dean said, chuckling lightly again. Sam pulled his laptop from the backseat and set it on the trunk of the Impala. He quickly found a local costume shop that could provide the uniforms for fairly cheap. There was a printing service shop located not far from the costume shop so Dean dropped Sam out front while he went off to perfect Sam's new I.D badge. Dean laughed as he remembered how Sam had tried to bargain with him to use a different name.

* * *

Thirty minutes later, Dean pulled back up in front of the costume shop and spotted Sam standing by the shop's door, two garment bags slung over his shoulder. It looked like he was talking to himself. Dean honked once to get his brother's attention and Sam turned, finally giving Dean the chance to see who his brother was talking to.

"Ruby," he growled. He got out of the Impala, slamming the door, then winced. "Sorry girl," Dean whispered, patting the roof soothingly. "I shouldn't take it out on you." He stalked over to them and stopped next to Sam.

"Hello, Dean," Ruby greeted him flatly.

Dean nodded at her once and then turned to Sam. "Let's get a move on it, Sammy. We've got work to do."

"Just a minute. Ruby has some info I think you might want to hear," Sam replied, dismissing Dean's attitude towards the demon-girl.

_Just because you've got a thing going doesn't mean I've got to like her,_ Dean thought bitterly. He knew he was being juvenile. Ruby had been a major support for Sam, had even saved his life, while Dean was in hell. It did make him feel slightly grateful towards her, but that gratitude only extended so far.

Lately, she had been showing up a lot and Dean found that the whispering between the two of them grated on his nerves. She was the one, after all, who wanted Sam to use his freaky demon powers and that made her motives extremely suspicious to Dean. _What exactly are your plans for my brother, Ruby?_ Dean wondered.

"Let's hear it, then," Dean grunted.

"Well, I was telling Sam that there have been whispers swirling that Lilith is here," Ruby began. She held up a finger when Dean opened his mouth to remark. "Just a sec. I know you guys already know. Sam told me Castiel said she might be here. What you don't know is that there is another demon that's committing all the murders and he's one nasty son of a bitch. His name is Malphas and he is basically Lilith's second-in-command on Earth. He's been doing her bidding with the murders.

"I've also been asking around about that pentagram you found in Honey Brook. Looks like it may not be what you think it is. It's not a ritual. No one I've asked has ever seen anything like it and I've asked some pretty ancient contacts. I don't like how this is all coming together. I was just telling Sam it might be wise to skip town, now, before whatever's happening happens."

"No way," Dean exclaimed. There was no way he was going to walk away from a fight, especially if it was against Lilith. He eyed Sam and was shocked to see doubt in his eyes. "Thanks for the heads up Ruby, but this is our job. We're here to stop another seal from being broken and just because you can't find any _**reliable**_ demon sources to give you some information doesn't make it any less a possibility. We'll deal as we go, but, for now, we have to go on what we know. If Lilith is here then we have to at least try to stop her. _**While**_ we have that chance."

"Dean's right, Ruby. We have to at least try to kill Lilith," Sam agreed. _He still looks like he wants to take her advice,_ Dean thought as he watched his brother look at Ruby. Ruby glared at Dean but nodded at Sam.

"Alright, I tried. But remember, it might be your funerals. Just be careful, Sam, okay," she relented.

"I'll at least try," he said, smiling at her. Dean rolled his eyes and groaned. _Go make googley-eyes somewhere else!_ Sam punched him in the shoulder, but turned and started for the car.

"See you later, Dean," Ruby said and disappeared around the corner.

"Yeah, whatever," Dean mumbled.

Sam was already waiting for him by the car, so Dean strolled over and slid into the driver's seat. He pulled out onto the road and headed back to Walter Conroy's apartment, thinking about what Ruby had told them. _Could this all be over soon? _Dean wondered as he sped around a slow moving Septa public transportation bus. They parked and changed quickly, pulling the uniforms over their civilian clothes. Dean handed Sam his I.D badge, which now identified him as Sam Loomis, and headed back to the front of the apartment building. They buzzed the apartment once more, still getting no response. Dean then started pressing buttons at random.

Finally, an irritated voice broke over the intercom. "Yo?" Sam rolled his eyes at the false bravado in the man's voice. _Clearly this guy's seen one too many Rocky movies,_ Dean thought.

"We're with Peco Energy. We're trying to reach a Walter Conroy," Dean stated.

"Well, then ring him," the voice snapped.

"We tried, sir, but there doesn't seem to be anyone answering," Sam replied.

"Well, then I guess he ain't home, now is he!"

"Well, we're not really sure that may be the case," Sam continued.

_This is crazy! I'm done with this fool,_ Dean thought, annoyed.

"See, we got a complaint from Mr. Conroy late last night that he smelled gas in his apartment, but we couldn't send anyone out at the time. We weren't able to reach him this morning on the number he left with the dispatcher," Dean explained. "If it's a leak, we need to get in to that apartment, ASAP. It could be rather dangerous if remains unchecked."

"A gas leak?" They could practically hear the wheels turning in the man's head, his obvious need for self preservation battling with his sense of security. A second later, they heard a deep buzzing noise and a click as the door unlocked from the inside.

"Thank you, Mr. Balboa," Dean mumbled. Sam grabbed the door and they slipped inside, heading for the elevators. "This place is nice," Dean observed as they walked through the lobby. He watched his reflection in the floor-to-ceiling mirrors on either side of the elevator as they stood waiting for them to arrive. The marble-like floors reflected the lobby's high arched ceilings in eschewed prisms.

_Damn do we look stupid dressed up in these silly costumes to appease the normal people_, Dean thought, shaking his head.

Dean always hated this part of the job. They stepped into the elevator and his stomach fluttered as they shot upwards. He hated to fly and sometimes, in the more expensive updated elevators, he was reminded of a plane's takeoff. He gripped the slender gold bar that ran along the interior of the elevator and closed his eyes, taking deep, steady breaths. Dean could sense Sam's amusement at his current state even with his eyes closed and muttered, "Just shut your trap, Sammy."

"Relax, Dean. We're almost there," Sam said, chuckling a little.

A second later, they stopped abruptly and Dean's eyes flashed open. The doors slid apart and he pushed past Sam into the hallway. Bright sunlight streamed in from a window at the opposite end, reflecting softly off the beige walls. Sam had already headed down the hallway in the opposite direction, so Dean followed after him, looking at the shiny brass apartment numbers on each door they passed.

"Here we are: Apartment 613," Sam said as he tapped the paper he'd pulled out with Walter Conroy's address on it. He tucked it into a back pocket of his jeans and pulled out his lock pick kit, immediately going to work. Taking no time at all, Sam stood up, put the kit back in his coat pocket, and pulled out his gun, thumbing the safety before looking to Dean. Dean had already pulled his own gun out and nodded that he was ready. They each took a steadying breath, preparing for anything, and pushed the door open.

"Mr. Conroy?" Dean called tentatively as they relayed positions into the room. They heard the door shut with a soft click behind them, but heard no other noises. The apartment appeared to be empty. "Looks like nobody's home after all," Dean stated. He lowered his gun and walked into the large kitchenette. Sam moved into the living room, still on edge.

"I don't know about that," he growled a second later. Dean turned at the sound of distress and anger in his brother's voice. "Looks like we were right about Walter Conroy." Sam nodded at something on the floor as Dean made his way over. Lying in a heap on the floor was the body of a man, his half-turned face blank, his gray eyes almost opaque behind the crooked dark green-rimmed glasses.

"Dammit," Dean cursed. He bent down and gently pushed the body onto it's back. There was a small bullet hole in the man's chest. "Looks like the damn demon vacated shortly after this was inflicted."

"This is bull," Sam snapped, startling Dean. "I'd bet the demon was at the office building last night. It set off the alarm that almost got us caught. We were so close and now? We may never find the damn thing."

"We'll just have to keep looking for it. If the ritual was finished, we'd know. Cas would have shown up if it was over. The demon's still gotta be here somewhere, we just have to find the thing and kill it." Dean stood up and stepped towards his brother. He had meant to put his hand on Sam's shoulder but Sam took a step back and turned away.

"If we'd come here last night like you'd wanted to, maybe it would be over," he growled.

"Sammy, this isn't your fault. Look at him. This man has been dead a long time. Demons ride the bodies hard, you know that."

"I might have been able to save him, Dean!"

"How? By using those freaky demon powers of yours?" Dean growled in frustration. "No, Sam. I told you, you can't mess around with that stuff. It's not safe," Dean yelled, unable to hide his anger at Sam's evident self blame.

"I'm not going to have this argument with you again," Sam grumbled. He turned to face Dean, his eyes hard, set. "Let's just get the hell out of here before that guy calls Peco and finds out we don't work for them." He headed for the door. Dean followed him after a moment's hesitation.

"I don't want to fight with you either, Sam, but we need to get something straight. You can't use those powers."

"Just drop it, alright," Sam snapped, jabbing at the down button for the elevator.

_I am not riding on that thing again, no way!_ Dean thought in slight panic. "I'm going to take the stairs. I'll meet you at the car," Dean said, already opening the stairwell door. _It'll__ give both of us some time to cool off._

"Whatever," Sam muttered and stepped into the elevator. Dean sighed in resignation as the doors slid closed before heading down the stairs.

Sam was leaning against the Impala already out of his uniform, his arms crossed across his chest. He was staring off down the busy street, lost in thought. He still looked angry, so Dean climbed quietly into the car and started the engine. Sam dropped in beside him and he peeled out onto the road, the silence stretching awkwardly between them.


	11. Chapter 11

**ELEVEN**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 20th, 2009

Sam hadn't meant to snap at Dean, but he was angry. He was angry because they were too late and another innocent person was dead. _Dean's right. We would have been too late to save Walter Conroy regardless._ Sam never would have been able to rid the man of the demon that had taken up residence inside without it killing him. But that didn't make it any easier to forget, though.

The powers he had could be used for good, Ruby had shown him that. _Why did everyone else have to be so against him using them if they worked? _Sam sighed and opened his eyes.

They had driven back to the apartment building in complete silence, Dean clearly wanting to avoid a blow out which only left Sam to stew in his own thoughts. He had tried once, much later, to get Sam to talk to him by bringing up the need to eat, but Sam had just grunted in response. Dean slinked out minutes later mumbling to himself and Sam had sat quietly, staring off, for several hours without moving.

He had been thinking about his time without Dean; thinking about the time he had spent with Ruby. The excruciating headaches he got almost every time he used his powers and how she would urge him to push past them. Eventually, as Ruby had promised, the headaches became far less painful and he was able to use his powers to completely rid demons from their host while keeping the person inhabited alive. In most cases, anyway.

Sometimes he was too late and the body was too battered and used for the soul of the person inside to survive alone. It was easier to deal with when Sam saw it firsthand rather than come upon the used shell of a person. At least then Sam could tell himself he had tried to save them. Walter Conroy was just another in a long list of people Sam had failed to save.

Sam turned over onto his side on the floor and searched the room for Dean's sleeping form. His brother lay a few feet away, curled in a ball, his breathing light as he continued to sleep. Sam hadn't gotten much sleep, his mind too wrapped in dark thoughts. He was afraid to fall asleep, afraid he would dream of Dean being tortured in hell, screaming his name.

In the nightmares, Dean's light green eyes would turn black as a twisted, maniacal smile spread across his face and Sam would hear the cries of agony as demon-Dean began torturing some poor soul. The faces of the innocent soul's Sam would see sometimes reflected people they knew, people they cared about - Bobby, Helen and Jo Harvelle, whom Sam hadn't seen in months. Even Sam's dead girlfriend, Jessica.

Sam sighed and pushed himself up, resigned. If he couldn't get some sleep then he might as well make himself useful. He got up and headed for the bathroom, trying to be quiet as he moved over the creaky wood floor. Sam splashed his face with some bottled water and changed into clean clothes. _I should go get some coffee before Dean wakes up_, he thought to himself.

Sam grabbed his jacket, slipped the Impala's keys from Dean's coat pocket, and headed outside. It had started to snow during the night leaving everything covered in a thick layer of white. Dean had begrudgingly parked the Impala in the abandoned lot again, so Sam began to trudge through the heavy snow.

By the time he made it to the car, the legs of his jeans were soaked through almost to his knees. He groaned when, after seeing the Impala buried under a thick layer of snow, he realized his gloves were locked inside.

"Just great," he groaned. Sam brushed off the passenger side as best he could and climbed in, shivering violently. His hands had turned bright a red and were numb from the cold. He turned the car on and cranked the heater, letting the heat from the Impala's vents melt some of the snow on the windshield while he warmed his hands. After awhile, he slipped his gloves on and climbed back out to brush the rest of the snow off the car.

* * *

It took Sam nearly an hour to clean off the car. Figuring Dean would be waking up soon, he maneuvered the car delicately out of the lot in search of coffee. The tires slipped a little as he drove. Once on the main roads, Sam saw things weren't as treacherous, having already been plowed and salted, and driving became a little easier. He found an open Dunkin Donuts a few streets later, ordered two coffees and a couple of donuts, and headed back.

Dean was just waking up, rubbing his eyes and yawning loudly, when Sam entered. Sam tossed the bag of donuts at him and he caught it skillfully, peering inside. "Just what the doctor ordered," he said, his voice still thick with sleep.

"I got coffee, too."

"Cool. Oh - jelly! Sweet!" Sam rolled his eyes and watched in mock horror as Dean shoved the entire donut into his mouth. "What?" Dean asked through the mouthful when he spotted Sam watching him.

"You are truly disgusting," Sam said, shaking his head. He took a sip of his coffee and relished the warmth as it slid down his throat. He watched Dean polish off two more donuts before finally relinquishing the bag back to Sam. Sam was happy to see his plain donut had survived the carnage and began to eat.

"So..." Dean trailed off.

"I'm okay, Dean."

"No more girlie freak outs, then?"

Sam rolled his eyes, but ignored Dean's comment. "I'm fine, I swear. Yesterday just hit me. Seeing that man's body there, just tossed off like someone's trash. And to think we were so close on the demon's trail." He sighed heavily.

"Trust me, I know. It bugs me too," Dean stated. "You just don't see me freaking out like a chick. There was nothing we could have done, Sammy. The man was dead a long time ago. The demon was just keeping the body warm. At least we know we're on to something. The demon wouldn't have gone to so much trouble the other night, trying to get us caught by the cops, and it certainly wouldn't have jumped ship if we weren't close," Dean reasoned, sipping his coffee as he watched Sam.

_He's got a point_, Sam thought. He walked over to the wall where their research was taped and began looking over some of the details they had compiled already. Nothing led to Lilith, which was what Sam was hoping for, but they still had a lot of information that could help find her.

"We're going to have to skip checking out the murder in Ridley Creek Park. Anything of use is now under about a foot of snow."

Dean groaned and Sam turned to see him stomp over to the window to take a look. He watched as Dean's lip twitched slightly in an obvious smirk when he saw the cleared Impala parked on the street in front of the abandoned building. _There was no way in hell I was walking back through all that snow_, Sam thought to himself.

"You're welcome," Sam muttered.

Dean grinned at Sam and gulped down the last of his coffee. "There's a way you can get in touch with Ruby, right?"

Sam stared at his brother. "Yeah, I guess so. Why?"

"Well, I had a thought last night," Dean started.

"That's always dangerous," Sam interrupted.

Dean threw his empty cup at Sam, but he dodged it. "Shut up, smart ass. Seriously, I think I'm on to something." Sam smiled and nodded for him to continue. "Remember yesterday how Ruby said she'd asked around about the pentagram and not even _**her**_ contacts had ever seen anything like it?"

"Yeah?"

"And you know how both you and Bobby have come up with zip on a ritual that would use it?" Sam nodded. "Well, what if it isn't one? What if we've been trying to figure out something that doesn't exist?"

"The pentagram's a dummy?" Sam mumbled, glancing back at the wall, already on the same track. _Of course! Lilith has us chasing down some false lead, some fake ritual that means nothing while she's planning something else. _"It has to be big," Sam stated, his thoughts jumping ahead.

"What does?"

"Whatever Lilith is really planning. I mean, for her to go through all the trouble of leading us along like this, it has to be something much bigger than we expected." Sam was pacing now, glancing periodically at the photos and paperwork pinned on the wall. "I think you might be right, Dean."

"I love it when you say that," Dean replied with a cocky grin. Sam stopped and gazed at his brother. "We should call Bobby. See if maybe he thinks I'm right, too."

"Wouldn't you love that," Sam grumbled. He pulled out his phone and pressed the speed dial for Bobby.

"Hey Bobby. We think we might have figured out the pentagram," Sam stated as soon as the hunter picked up. "And you'll never believe this, but it was Dean's brilliant idea," Sam exclaimed.

* * *

"I think you might be right, Dean," Ruby said in mild shock. It had been a few hours and several conversations later since Dean had come up with his theory that the pentagram was a fraud.

"Nope, still not tired of hearing that, " Dean grinned. Both Ruby and Sam rolled their eyes and a smile tugged at Sam's lips.

"It would make sense for Lilith to plan something like this. She's done it before, although I've never witnessed it," Ruby continued. "It plays with what I said earlier, though. She might try and use her real plan to get rid of you and that's why she's going to so much trouble." Ruby glanced at Dean, before turning back to Sam. "I still think you should leave town," she added, eyeing him carefully.

"I think it's better we stay," Sam stated, looking down at the plastic water bottle he was holding. He looked up at Dean before finally meeting Ruby's gaze. "We have to at least try to stop Lilith." Ruby sighed but said nothing.

"So now what?" Dean asked, trying to break the silence that had begun to stretch. Sam and Ruby turned to look at him. "I mean, we know the ritual is probably bogus and this demon, Mammoth or whatever..."

"Malphas," Ruby corrected.

"Right, Malphas, is gone. On to some new body and any information we may have been able to get about Lilith gone with him. Either of you have any ideas as to where we go now? 'Cause I'm coming up with bupkiss."

"I'm coming up empty, too," Sam relented. He stared at the wall of photos again. "Maybe the angels know something?" He saw Ruby shudder out of the corner of his eye. "You might want to duck out for a little while," he said, turning to watch her face.

"That would probably be for the best. Do you guys even know how to get in contact with them?"

"Cas usually shows up when I need him to," Dean replied. "I've never tried to get his attention before, but I'm sure I can come up with something." He grinned and winked at Sam. _What the hell is he planning?_ Sam thought, rolling his eyes.

"Well, I guess that's my cue to leave," Ruby said as she rose from the crate she'd been sitting on. "As soon as you know anything..."

"I'll call," Sam finished. She smiled weakly at him.

"See you around, Dean," she called as she slipped out the door. Dean turned to find Sam at the window again.

"So what exactly _**is**_ your plan, Dean?"

"I'm still working on it. Once I know, you'll know."

"You mean you're not going to run through the streets screaming Castiel's name?" Sam smiled at the mental picture he had of Dean being subdued and put into a white straight jacket.

"No. That'd just get me locked up in the loony bin. I'm sure I can come up with something a little less theatric." Dean was putting on his leather jacket as Sam turned to look at him. "I should be back in half an hour."

"If not, I'll start calling the local asylums," Sam joked. Dean chuckled and left the apartment. Sam watched from above as his brother climbed in to the Impala and sped off. _Hope your plan works_, he thought with some concern_._ Sam stood looking out onto the white landscape below until his breath completely fogged the window, then turned and began pacing the room.

He hated waiting around while Dean was out there, some of the old fears from the year leading up to Dean's trip to hell still with him. As the half hour mark passed with no word from his brother, Sam began to worry. He was just about to call Dean when the door to the apartment opened. Dean strolled in, followed closely by Castiel. Sam shuddered slightly at the sight of the angel. It was an unusual reaction and he quickly realized it was because of the look on the man's normally calm face. Castiel looked angry. "What's up?" Sam asked, eyeing Dean carefully.

Dean glanced at Castiel before responding. "Well, I filled Cas in on what we've learned so far. It looks like there is a seal, a big seal, that Lilith's trying to open here. And from what the angels have gathered, there is more than one demon working to open it." He glanced at the angel once more.

"What's going on, Dean?" Sam was getting tense. He couldn't understand what was making his brother so hesitant.

"Well...now don't go blowing up, Sam, but the angels think Ruby might be in on something. Or at least she knows more than what she's been telling us."

Sam stared at Dean. _Ruby isn't evil, _he wanted to scream. He took a deep breath, trying to relax against the anger rising in his chest, and closed his eyes. "Ruby is not helping Lilith," he growled. He opened his eyes and glared at Castiel. "You can't accuse her of something on principle."

"By her very nature she is evil, Sam," Castiel replied. "You are too close to see this anymore." He turned his cold blue eyes to Dean. "Perhaps it is best to leave Sam out of this."

"Like hell you are," Sam yelled. He was seething now, the anger pulsing in his temples. Dean remained silent which only made Sam angrier. "Dean, tell me you aren't listening to this? Ruby has saved my life, _**our**_ lives, on more than one occasion. How much more does she have to do to prove she isn't like other demons?"

"Calm down, Sammy. I'm not taking sides. I may not trust Ruby - hell, I don't even like her most of the time-, but I can't ignore her actions." Dean strode over to Sam and placed his hands gently on his shoulders. "She is a demon though, man, and we can't say for sure we know what her motives are." When Sam opened his mouth to protest, Dean shook his head. "We need to work this out on our own. I've heard what info Cas has and we've heard, so far, what Ruby's got. We've just got to go off the lifetime of training and knowledge dad gave us to figure this out." Sam glared over his brother's shoulder at the dark haired angel once more before meeting Dean's gaze. Dean raised his eyebrows, waiting for Sam.

"Okay. Fine." Sam stepped out of Dean's grasp and turned to look out the window. _I'm not discussing anything until __**he**__ leaves_, he thought angrily. He heard Dean whisper something to Castiel and strained his ears, trying to make out the words. After a minute, Dean came to stand by his side. Sam glanced behind him and saw they were alone, the angel gone. "That really sucked, Dean," he mumbled.

"Yeah, I know. But they're mortal - or immortal, actually - enemies, Sam. They're bound to make accusations against the opposite side regardless of the circumstances." Dean lightheartedly punched Sam in the shoulder. "Cas got you a little hot under the collar, didn't he, little brother?"

"I just don't understand how they can still think that Ruby would be involved with Lilith's plans. She's stood by us far more than any angel has." Sam was watching his brother as he spoke, trying to gauge his response, to read his thoughts. Dean's face remained passive, unaffected. "Look what happened before with Anna."

"The thing with Anna was different." Sam cocked an eyebrow at Dean and he hastily continued. "I do get what you're saying about Ruby, though. I'll admit, I've seen her do some good things, but how can you say with absolute certainty that she doesn't have _**any**_ demonic agendas? Despite how well you think you know her, Sam, she is a demon and they lie, cheat, and create mayhem on a pretty even basis."

"Ruby's not like that, Dean. Even you've seen that," Sam pressed.

"She's lied to you before. Don't forget that. What makes you so certain that she won't do it again? We were trained to send demons back to hell not take them out on dates. It goes against my better judgment to let Ruby live every time I see her. I'll admit she's come through for us on occasion and that's why I have reserved the right to send her ass back to hell until she gives me a reason to."

Sam could see he wasn't going to convince his brother of Ruby's goodwill, but at least Dean was willing to believe the angels were wrong about her involvement with Lilith's plans. He could feel his brother's questioning eyes boring into him so he turned to look at him.

"Thanks, Dean. At least for that much." He walked past Dean into the bathroom where he'd stashed a few of the ingredients needed for Ruby's summoning ritual and came back out into the makeshift living quarters. Dean remained quiet as he watched Sam work. Once the ritual was complete, Sam stood up and waited for Ruby to arrive.

A few moments later there was a knock at the door. "Come on in, Ruby," Sam called.

"That didn't take very long," she commented as she entered. Then, as if she could sense the tension in the room, she turned to Sam. "What's going on?"

Sam looked to Dean first before answering. "The angels think you're involved with Lilith's plans."

"What? You can't be serious," Ruby cried, spinning on Sam with a look of disbelief. "They're wrong. Sam you have to believe. I wouldn't work with Lilith. She would send me back to hell, or worse, before she'd let me anywhere near her plans."

"Ruby, relax. We know you aren't working with Lilith," Dean cut in. Sam gawked at his brother, shocked at the small note of sympathy in his voice. Ruby stared at Dean as well, a look of confusion etched across her face. "What we need to know is if you can find out anything more about the seal she's trying to break here. Are there any contacts of yours that you may not have tried yet?"

"There may be one, but it's a long shot that he may have any information of use. He's been flying under the radar since Azazel opened the Devil's Gate last year. He's on a lot of other demon's hit lists," Ruby offered.

"So what makes you think he knows something?" Sam pressed.

"Because he's been out in the open lately. That makes me think he's involved in something, something big. He wouldn't risk his existence if he wasn't guaranteed some kind of protection. Protection only Lilith would be able to provide."

"Well doesn't he sound peachy. How are you supposed to trust what he tells you if he's on Lilith's side?" Dean snapped. Ruby glared at him before turning her back to him.

"Dean's got a point," Sam stated. "How can you be sure he won't lie or double-cross you?"

"Because he owes me."

Dean snorted. "Okay, so no worries then! He owes her!"

"Dean, don't," Sam cautioned.

"What's your problem, Dean?" Ruby snapped, turning to glare at him.

"My problem?" Dean growled out angrily. "You expect us to trust that some demon, who sounds like every other demon we've sent back to hell, won't double-cross you and get us all killed? We're supposed to trust this on the simple fact that said demon _**owes**_ you! Call me crazy, but that doesn't exactly sound like a safe, intelligent situation."

"Well, I don't see you coming up with any brilliant ideas," Ruby continued to rage. "Correct me if I'm wrong, Dean, but it seems your angel buddies have only given you useful information _**after **_the fact."

"Yeah, okay, let's say you may be right. How can you trust that this demon won't consider his debt paid before you have time to get away? How can you be positive that he will even honor his debt to you?"

"Maybe it's too dangerous," Sam finally added.

"This is ridiculous," Ruby cried, throwing her hands into the air. "Since when are you worried about me, Dean?"

"I'm not. I'm worried about what you could bring down on _**us**_."

Ruby rounded on Sam. "And since when can I not take care of myself, Sam?"

"I'm not saying that. I just think it might be smarter if..."

"If we sit here and wait for the apocalypse?" Ruby shook her head. "I don't need your protection and I certainly don't need your permission. I'll let you know what I find out," Ruby spat. She turned on her heel and stormed from the room, slamming the door behind her.

"That went well, didn't it," Dean grumbled.

"She's right, you know. We can't tell her what to do. If she wants to risk herself getting information, who are we to begrudge her? We wouldn't think twice about risking our own lives. And we have, several times. I'm just as cautious about all this as you are, but we need the help, Dean," Sam replied.

_How can you still think Ruby's on the side of evil if she's willing to risk her life for us_, Sam thought angrily.

"I just don't want this coming back to bite us," Dean relented. He sighed. "So now what?"

Sam shrugged. "Unfortunately, all we can do now is wait."

"Yay, my favorite part!" Dean muttered sarcastically. Sam smiled, glad the mood had shifted, and threw an empty water bottle at his brother. It hit Dean squarely on the forehead with a resounding crack and Sam burst out in laughter. "You're going to regret that," Dean growled playfully, before lunging at Sam.


	12. Chapter 12

**TWELVE**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 20th, 2009

"I'm tired of waiting," Dean snapped into the silent, idling car. He threw the Impala into drive and pulled out onto the street behind a beat up pick-up. The truck kicked up slush from the road, clouding the windshield within seconds. Dean snapped the wipers on and cursed under his breath. "I just can't sit around waiting for Ruby to call. I need to be doing something."

"What can we do? Last time I checked, we had nothing to go on. Besides, it's only been a little over twelve hours since Ruby left," Sam replied.

"I don't care. I can't just chill out when there's a battle raging around me."

"I..."

"Oh, come on, buddy. Pick a lane and stick with it," Dean yelled, cutting Sam off. The truck had begun to swerve between the two lanes, kicking up even more mess in its wake. Taking advantage of the obvious indecision of the driver ahead of them, Dean slammed on the gas. The Impala's engine roared and they rocketed around the truck in a blur of noise and a wave of slush.

"Let's see how you like it," Dean mumbled as the truck's windshield became covered in grime kicked up from the Impala's back tires. He could see Sam shaking his head and gripping the handle of the passenger door. "Relax Sammy."

"How am I suppose to relax when you're driving like a maniac. Have you never heard of black ice?" Sam snapped. He loosened his grip on the door handle a little as Dean came to a stop at a red light. Dean shook his head and laughed.

"I've got it under control. Besides, you know how I feel about backseat drivers." He turned to stare at Sam, cocking an eyebrow as he slammed on the gas the same moment the light turned green. _Besides, I drive better than anyone,_ Dean thought smugly.

"I'm not saying another word," Sam declared. Dean swerved around another car, this time a small compact sedan, and turned onto a side street. "Where exactly are you going?" Sam asked a few minutes later.

"Thought you weren't going to say another word?" Dean teased. He glanced at Sam and saw him shrug.

"So sue me. Are you going to tell me where we're going?" Sam turned in his seat, trying to read Dean's face in the darkened car.

"I'm not sure. I'll know when we get there," Dean replied. His cell phone began to ring from inside his jacket pocket and he pulled it out, chuckling as he heard Sam gasp as he skirted past a cab, which had stopped to pick up a fare, just missing the cab's bumper. "Hell-lo," he called into the phone.

"Hey Dean, it's Bobby."

"Hey Bobby. What's up?" Dean saw Sam's head snap up at the hunter's name. He quickly put the phone on speaker so they could both hear.

"Well, I've been goin' over what Sam said about your theory that the pentagram's a fake. I reached out to a few friends of mine and asked if any of 'em have heard of a situation like this," Bobby explained. "I got a call back this mornin' from a hunter in Lisbon, Maryland by the name of Reggie Connors. Seems Reggie's heard of one instance like this before in the late seventies where a demon was using a false ritual to trap and kill unsuspecting hunters. Killed almost twenty-five before someone caught on and put a stop to it.

"Reggie faxed me a drawing of the pentagram used. I damn near choked on the cup of coffee I was drinkin' when it came through. It's the same one, right down to the voodoo symbol."

"Ruby said Lilith has done the fake-ritual-thing before. Maybe it was even her back in the seventies. Do you think we could talk to your friend Reggie, in person?" Sam asked, already pulling out his laptop.

"I thought ya'd want to talk to 'em so I asked and that would be okay," Bobby replied. They could hear him shuffling through some papers. "Tell me when you're ready and I'll give ya the address."

"Sam's ready to go when you are," Dean stated. Sam typed the address into the digital address book on his computer and then pulled up a map to plan the best route to take.

"I'll call Reggie and Frank and tell 'em you're on your way."

"Thanks Bobby. We owe you one," Sam said.

"Ya owe me more than that. I know I don't need to tell ya to be careful, but I'm gonna anyway. Take care boys." Bobby hung up, leaving the car silent once more. Dean pulled over and waited for Sam to give him the directions to Reggie Connors'.

"We have to take I-95 South to get to Lisbon. Once we get to the I-70/I-695 West exit, I'll have to give you more detailed directions," Sam explained. Dean nodded once and pulled back out into traffic.

Philadelphia was a relatively easy city for Dean to drive through; unlike New York, where the streets became labyrinths and he got lost quickly. He remembered the last time they were in New York City. They had been on a job and Dean had gotten so frustrated at the ever changing street names and directions that he had made Sam drive for the remainder of the hunt. _New York streets are the bane of my existence_, Dean thought dryly. He quickly found the ramp for I-95 South and merged into the growing afternoon rush-hour traffic.

He was glad they were doing something, but still disappointed it was just the grunt work. _At least I'm not holed up in that apartment twiddling my thumbs_, Dean thought to himself. He flipped on the radio and began scanning through the stations. "So do you really think we'll be able to get any more information from this Reggie guy?"

"I think whatever he can give us is more than we had before. At least now we know what we're dealing with." Sam sighed. "If it was Lilith in the seventies, maybe he'll know of a way to stop her." Dean pressed on the gas as traffic began to thin, many of the cars exiting into the passing suburbs. He peered over at Sam and saw that he was looking out of the window, lost in thought.

"What's on your mind, Sammy?"

Sam turned to look at him. "Not much. I've just been thinking about the past couple of days. Do you realize that five people, at least that we know of, have died for nothing."

"I've noticed, yeah. But they're demons. Death is basically their deal. We know better than anyone that they don't always need an excuse," Dean stated.

"I know. It's just that these people - Janet Hardy, Robert Kligman were killed for what? To lead us on a wild goose chase? It's crazy, Dean. Why is Lilith going to all the trouble? She never has before. It just doesn't make much sense."

"It is a little funny that she's spending so much time now when last year, when she owned my soul, she basically left us alone. There was that time in Colorado, but I'm not so sure she was after us. She didn't show up until after she knew we were gone to kill Henrickson and the others. Maybe it's because she knows she can't kill you herself that she's doing this. Maybe she hoped we'd go in, guns blazing, without doing a little research first, and wind up dead." Dean shook his head. "Whatever the reason, I stopped trying to figure these bastards out a long time ago."

"Lilith knows we're not stupid," Sam replied, shrugging. He gazed out the window for a moment before adding, "she needs to be stopped. Soon."

"I agree, but without knowing where she is we can't really do anything except gather info. Let's see what this friend of Bobby's has to say," Dean offered. They drove in silence, the radio playing softly in the background.

* * *

Sam and Dean arrived at Reggie Connors' home just after eleven-thirty. Hunters were typically night people, awake when the freaks they hunted were most active so they weren't worried about waking Reggie up.

As Sam shut his door, the screen door on the small gray house opened, and a grizzled looking man with silver hair came ambling out. He looked to be in his late sixties and was dressed in black slacks and a light blue pull-over sweatshirt. He smiled at the brothers, revealing yellowed teeth, the result of years of tobacco use. "Pleasure to meet you, boys," he stated, extending his hand to each of them. Dean was surprised at the strength in the man's grip considering his appearance.

"Nice to meet you, too," Dean replied. "You must be Reggie."

"Nope. The name's Frank. Reggie's still inside." He turned and started back to the house.

Sam and Dean exchanged a brief glance as if to say, "this guy's definitely off his rocker", before following Frank into the house. The inside was warm, the walls painted light and decorated with pictures of smiling, happy people. Not what you would expect of a hunter's home. The furniture was worn, but cozy looking, and spaced nicely around each room. Dean could hear a shower running somewhere upstairs.

Frank led them into the living room and offered them a seat on a large, light blue couch situated in front of the bay windows that looked out over the street oustide. Sam quickly sat down, but Dean remained standing, wanting to look around some more. "Reggie's in the shower. Should be down in a few minutes," Frank stated. He turned and left, leaving them alone in the room.

"Charming guy," Dean mumbled. He wandered over to the wall opposite the couch to get a closer look at the photographs hung there. A picture of a small, brown haired girl dressed in a denim jumpsuit astride a shiny red bike smiled at him from the center of a cluster of photos. She appeared in several more, in varying ages, and Dean noticed she was smiling in every one. _Kid must have grown up completely oblivious to the life 'cause there's no way she'd look that happy if she did,_ Dean thought bitterly. He heard Sam cross the room, as he came to stand beside him, and remained quiet.

"Looks like a happy family," Sam finally said as Dean moved away, circling the room to take in all the photos.

"Yeah, they do. But even we know looks can be deceiving."

"Well aren't you a sparkling ray of sunshine," a soft voice quipped from behind them. Dean turned to see a small, slender woman with soft brown hair cut to her shoulders, still wet from her shower, standing in the doorway. She was dressed in gray athletic pants and an oversized dark green t-shirt that had a faded Nike emblem across her chest. Even from across the room, Dean could see her rolling her bright green eyes at him.

D_amn, she's hot_, he thought to himself.

"You must be Dean. Bobby's told me all about that sunny disposition of yours." The woman turned to Sam and extended her hand as she entered the room. "Regina Connors, but most people call me Reggie. I'm glad you guys found the place so easily. People tend to get lost about halfway here."

"It was pretty easy, actually," Sam replied. "Thanks for letting us drop by."

"Not a problem, Sam. Always glad to help a fellow hunter out. Especially when they're friends of Bobby Singer's. Can I offer you guys something to eat or drink? I think I still have a few beers hidden in the back of the fridge."

"Sure. I could use a beer," Dean replied.

They followed Reggie into a small kitchen and found the first real signs that a family of hunters lived there. A round, wooden table stood in the center of the room, it's top covered with a dark brown table cloth. Several guns, in varying stages of cleaning and assembly, were set out. An odd, bitter metallic smell, that Dean recognized as gun powder, hung in the air. On the wall opposite the old, white stove, a peg board had been installed to hold various bladed weapons. Frank was seated at the table staring off into space.

"Is he okay?" Sam asked, waving his hand in front of the man's blank stare.

"He's like that often. Diagnosed with Alzheimer's about three years ago. There are good days and bad days. Today was a bad day. I had to chase him down after he wandered halfway up the road in nothing but his underwear." Reggie pulled two beers out of the battered white refrigerator and handed them to Sam and Dean. Dean was eyeing a sawed-off shotgun, not much different than his own, sitting on the counter by the fridge as he popped off the lid of his beer and took a sip. "Like it," she asked, picking up the gun and offering it to him. Dean nodded and took the gun gingerly, feeling its easy weight in his hands.

"I have one just like it," he stated, turning the gun over in his hands. A small flower had been carved into the wood handle. Dean ran his fingers over it gently.

"I carved that myself. Silly, I know, but it's something feminine in a world of masculinity." Reggie chuckled lightly. "Listen to me, rambling on. I know you didn't come all the way from Philly to hear me talk about nothing." Dean saw Sam smile kindly at her. She motioned for them to head back through the kitchen door and into the living room.

Sam settled onto the couch again while Dean flopped into a faded gray recliner. The chair popped open immediately, jerking him backward. "What the hell?" he cried out in shock. He could hear Sam laughing hysterically and he struggled with the chair, finally managing to get it back into an upright position. He glared at his brother, who was wiping the tears from his eyes and still shaking with silent laughter. "You should warn a person before they sit in this thing," he growled at Reggie.

"Sorry about that. But to be fair, you did flop into it a little hard," Reggie said, still laughing herself. Dean continued to glare at them as Reggie took a seat in a matching gray recliner opposite him. She folded her legs underneath her and waited for them to ask their questions.

"Bobby told us you've heard of this pentagram before," Sam started, pulling out a copy of his sketch. He handed it to her and she glanced at it for a moment. "He said you heard about a false ritual where this pentagram was being used to trap hunters." Reggie nodded but didn't speak.

"You don't exactly look like you were around in the seventies," Dean interjected.

"I wasn't. I'm only twenty-five, but Frank was. I almost didn't place it at first when Bobby sent me the paper. Frank told me the story when I was about fifteen. In an attempt to give me some kind of caution about the life, I guess."

"What did he tell you about it?" Sam asked eagerly.

"Sometime in 1979, a few hunters, friends in a small circle of people my uncle stayed close to, started talking about this pentagram they'd stumbled upon. They couldn't find a ritual counterpart for it. I remember Frank had said it was really unusual because it mixed practices - hoodoo and pagan - and no one had ever seen anything like that before. A few months after the first hunter, a man by the name of John O'Riley, started looking into the ritual he disappeared.

"Over an eight month period, twenty-three more hunters just disappeared into thin air, the only connection - this strange pentagram. My uncle lost a few really good friends during that time. Finally, a hunter by the name of Lucas Black ran into my uncle and told him he'd gone looking into that pentagram. Lucas had run into a group of demons and had barely gotten away with his life. It was a trap, obviously. Set up to kill the hunters in an ambush. Lucas said the demon calling the shots was the most ruthless he had ever encountered.

"The demon would start by having a few people in a small area killed, making it look like it was just one of them, leaving just enough evidence behind to bring someone to investigate. A hunter would show up, looking for just the one demon, and instead find themselves surrounded. Lucas was half mad by the time he ran into my uncle, but he said that the lead demon came as a girl with white eyes. It was the worst thing he had ever encountered, seeing this little girl covered in blood, her face twisted into a gleeful expression as she tore Lucas's wife apart."

Dean immediately looked at Sam and Reggie paused, trying to read the exchange. "What is it?" she asked.

"You said Lucas talked about the lead demon? That it came as a little girl," Sam said.

"We've run into a demon who makes a habit of possessing little girls. Her name is Lilith and she is one brutal bitch," Dean continued.

"Wow. I mean, that's really sick, possessing a little girl," Reggie murmured. "I always thought it was just part of Lucas's madness. That he'd been so far gone after seeing his wife die, that nothing made sense to him anymore." She began biting the nail of her index finger absently. "Or that my uncle was exaggerating that part. Wait!" Reggie looked up at Sam, staring at him with wide eyes. "You said you've run into this Lilith before? Because of the pentagram?"

"Not because of the pentagram. We just discovered that a few days ago. We 'met' Lilith last year," Sam replied.

"How is it possible that you walked away if she's as brutal as Lucas said?" Dean saw Sam tense at the question and decided to answer her as truthfully as possible.

"I made a deal with a crossroads demon and Lilith ended up with the deed to my soul. We got to meet her right before her hellhounds dragged my ass to hell. About five months ago, an angel pulled me out and put me back on Earth to stop her. Lilith's trying to break these seals, gates to hell, and free Lucifer," Dean explained.

Reggie sat staring at Dean, frozen in place. The color had drained from her face, leaving her soft pale cheeks a ghostly white. She opened her mouth to speak then changed her mind and snapped it shut. Dean sighed heavily. "It's not as big a deal as it seems."

"I don't...I just...I have no idea what to say," Reggie stuttered. She ran her fingers through her hair, which Dean noted had begun to curl around her face as it dried. She glanced at Sam, who Dean saw was sitting forward, his head in his hands, his shaggy brown hair covering his face. He was rubbing his temples gently, as if he had a headache. "You said an angel pulled you out of hell? As in Archangel Gabriel, messengers of God, big-fluffy-white-wings-and-a-halo angels?"

"Well, they don't actually have the fluffy wings like what you mean, but basically, yeah. See they take over human bodies like demons do, just without all the damage," Dean said. He watched as the color slowly returned to Reggie's face, her cheeks going a slight pink as she realized he was staring at her. He smiled, then looked away, settling on a picture of a younger Reggie leaning against an old car. As he looked at it, Dean's jaw dropped open. "Is that a 1966 Plymouth Fury Sport?"

"What?" Reggie asked, startled. She followed Dean's gaze and smiled sheepishly. "Oh, that. Yeah it is. My grandfather bought it for me when I turned sixteen. Can you believe some guy just had it sitting in his garage gathering dust? Took almost two years for me to get it running again. Had to basically rebuild the engine from scratch."

Dean stared at her again, this time unable to help it. _She's cute __**AND**__ she knows how to rebuild a 383 cubic-inch engine?_ Even Sam was staring at Reggie, his mouth hanging slightly agape.

"You need a cup for that drool?" Reggie teased, finally pulling Dean from his reverie. He laughed and heard Sam laughing, too.

"Standard V-8 engine, right?" Dean asked, getting up to get a better look at the car and to keep his eyes from roaming over Reggie again. He really didn't want to do anything that might get them kicked out of the house before they'd had the chance to get all the information she could offer them.

Sam finished his beer and stood up. "I think I'm going to go grab another beer and leave you two motor-heads to talk blocks and headers." He left before either Dean or Reggie could respond.

"You know your cars," Reggie said as she stepped up next to Dean.

Dean nodded. "My dad taught me that there is nothing more important than taking care of your car. It's an extension of yourself. I know a good car when I see one and I can admire any person who knows how to do the same." Dean paused, glancing at Reggie out of the corner of his eye. "Do you still have it?"

"Damn straight. I put twenty-eight months of blood, sweat, and tears into that car. I'll show it to you tomorrow morning if you guys can stick around 'til then." She playfully punched Dean's shoulder. "By the way, where _**are**_ you guys planning on sleeping tonight?"

"We'll probably just find a motel or something."

"Uh-uh, no way. I can't let you guys do that. You can stay here. We have plenty of room and I have to say, I can make a mean omelet, if you're interested."

_I'm plenty interested_, Dean thought to himself, _but not exactly in the omelet._ "That's nice of you to offer. Thanks."

"What is?" Sam asked as he came back into the living room, closely followed by Frank.

"Reggie offered to let us crash here for the night. She says she'll even cook breakfast in the morning. She _**claims**_ to be a good cook," Dean replied, giving Reggie a devious smile.

"That is really nice of you. Thanks," Sam added. He eyed Dean and Reggie for a moment.

"Let me finish showing you guys around the house then." Reggie led them upstairs, Frank following silently behind them.


	13. Chapter 13

**THIRTEEN**

Lisbon, Maryland

January 21st, 2009

Dean stared at the ceiling, listening to the quiet house, waiting for sleep to come. He had been lying in bed for over two hours, unable to get his mind to shut off. He turned onto his stomach, hoping a change in position would help. It wasn't that the bed was uncomfortable; it was probably one of the most comfortable beds he'd slept in in a long time. He just couldn't seem to stop thinking about the pictures downstairs and the happy girl who grew up in the very house he was in now, sleeping a few doors away.

Reggie Connors was a hunter like him and Sam, but she hadn't been raised like they had. She had gone to a regular school, probably had had regular friends. Her childhood was nothing like Dean's. Moving from place to place, never staying long enough to put down any roots; leaving people behind each time until, finally, Dean stopped trying. He stopped trying to make a life outside of hunting, outside of the job.

His dad had sacrificed his entire life to search out the things that went bump in the night, so why couldn't Dean? He'd always thought, as they met more and more hunters through the years, that it was just what went with the job. That a life, like Sam had so desperately wanted when he left home at eighteen to go to college, was just not something they could ever have. Now Dean was lying in a bed in a house that seem to contradict all of that. He yanked a pillow over his face as he rolled back onto his back, trying to suffocate the thoughts running around inside his head. A few minutes later, he growled and yanked the pillow off.

Sitting up, Dean rubbed his hands over his close-cropped hair, smoothing it out with his fingers. He looked around the modestly decorated bedroom, picking out the shapes of the furniture within it through the darkness. His duffle bag sat on the floor in front of a small pine dresser and his favorite brown leather jacket hung on the back of a lonely oak chair, recycled from the set in the kitchen downstairs. He turned on the lamp set on the single nightstand before getting out of bed.

Dean caught his reflection in the mirror and grimaced. Dark circles were beginning to show under his eyes, making his face look drawn and weary. He pulled on the same pair of jeans he'd been wearing when they'd arrived and stepped out into the dark hallway. Reggie had shown them where the bathroom was, just at the top of the stairs, so Dean quietly made his way in that direction.

Just as he passed the room Sam was sleeping in, a door at the end of the hall opened and Reggie stepped out, raising a flashlight and shining it in Dean's face. He raised his hand, blinded for a moment in the sudden bright light.

"Dean? Is everything okay?" Reggie asked, lowering the flashlight, and taking a hesitant step out of her bedroom.

"Yeah…umm, sorry if I woke you."

"It's okay. I'm a light sleeper. I thought you were Frank. He gets out of bed sometimes and wanders around." Reggie shut off the flashlight, eyeing Dean and making him feel uncomfortable. "Did you need anything?"

"No, I'm good. I was just heading to the bathroom," Dean replied. He swept his eyes around the hallway nervously, trying not to stare at Reggie. She was dressed only in a black Styx t-shirt that barely came to mid-thigh, showing off her toned legs.

"Couldn't sleep, huh?" she asked, giving him a small smile.

"Not really, no," Dean said, smiling back.

"Something on your mind?"

"Yeah, but not something I really want to talk about." He hadn't really needed to use the bathroom, so he stood awkwardly at the top of the stairs, looking anywhere but at Reggie. They were both silent for a few moments. Dean scrambled to think of something to break it. "It must really suck. Frank having Alzheimer's, I mean. Having to take care of him like you do."

"It's not something you really want to see anyone have happen to them, but he's family. I can't put him in some home where he'll rot, alone, and there's no one else to take him full-time." Reggie sighed. "I make do. Some of his old friends help me out, stopping by or taking him for a few days, when I'm working a job." She paused and stepped back into her bedroom.

Dean turned, thinking she was going back to bed, but stopped when Reggie reappeared a moment later, tugging on a white, cotton robe.

"I'm going to head downstairs and make a pot of coffee. You're welcome to join me," she said.

"Thanks. I think I will." Dean followed her down the stairs, smelling the soft floral scent of her shampoo left in her wake. They entered the kitchen and Reggie immediately went to work, pulling out a can of grounds from the freezer and filling the coffee pot with water from the faucet. Dean sat down in one of the three remaining chairs around the table and picked up one of the guns, a Colt .45. He began to clean it, needing the busywork to keep from watching Reggie. Soon, the delicious aroma of coffee swirled around them.

"How do you like your coffee?" she asked, heading for the fridge. "All we have is the milk we keep for cereal. And sugar's in the bowl on the table."

"I take it black, thanks." Dean grinned as he saw Reggie place her cup of coffee, black as well, on the table.

They sat in silence, just sipping their coffee, cleaning and assembling weapons for awhile. It was nice for Dean to be able to sit and work without worrying about what the person across from him was thinking or worrying about that person asking too many questions. Reggie was pleasant company and, as Dean stole quick glances at her, pleasing scenery, too. Soon, their cups were empty and the table cleared of work, making Dean feel suddenly awkward.

Reggie got up from the table, clearing the tools they'd been using. "You want another cup," she offered, already pouring one for herself. Dean smiled and nodded for her to pour him another one too. She remained standing, leaning against the counter next to the sink, looking into her cup pensively.

Dean held his mug tightly in both hands, letting the heat radiate out of the cup, staring at the smooth, onyx liquid inside. "I know I might be intruding by asking this, so please, tell me to mind my own business if you don't want to answer," Reggie began, breaking the silence and causing Dean to freeze in dread. "Bobby mentioned once that you and Sam hunted a werewolf awhile back and I was curious…"

Dean's head snapped up in confused shock. _Not exactly what I thought she was going to bring up,_ he thought with relief. "Yeah, we did," he replied. "What did you want to know?"

"Well…what was it like? The werewolf, I mean?" Reggie eyed him carefully and waited.

Dean thought it over, remembering their time in San Francisco. Remembering Madison, the woman whom they had thought was the intended victim of a werewolf who had turned out to be her creepy neighbor. Sam had fallen for Madison and was crushed when they discovered that she'd unknowingly been turned into a werewolf too. Sam had insisted on being the one to end Madison's life, an immense weight Dean had tried to take for him. It was just another thing they never talked to each other about.

Dean took a deep breath and sat back against the chair. "They're not like in the movies with all the hair and claws and muzzles dripping with saliva. Once in the transformation, they still look mostly human, just with long, nasty teeth and nails. They're crazy strong and fast, too," Dean explained.

Reggie shuddered, her face going slightly pale. "They can be killed with silver, right? That part of the lore is true?"

"Yeah and the change only happens around a full moon. That's basically all the movies got right. They only feed on the hearts of their victims and killing the source of a person's infection won't stop the change. The silver has to penetrate the heart." Dean paused, trying to read the sudden change in Reggie's demeanor. She stood staring out into space, her face a ghostly pale, her shoulders stiff. "Are you okay?" he asked. Suddenly Dean wished he _**had **_told her to mind her own business.

"I'm fine," she lied, wiping a tear from her cheek. She smiled weakly at him before quickly looking away.

"No, you're not," Dean said. "What is it?"

He watched Reggie take a deep breath before meeting his questioning gaze. "I guess you'd find out anyway. We don't get to keep too many secrets in our line of work, do we?" She sighed heavily before continuing.

"About four years ago, a friend of mine, another hunter, was working a job in Custer, South Dakota. Thought it was simply just a nest of vampires. The local newspapers reported a series of deaths, mostly campers, that they attributed to wild animal attacks. When he got there, it became quickly apparent that vampires were not to blame. The attacks were much too gruesome.

"When he discovered the creature, it had happened upon a family of four - a mother, father and two kids - camping in the woods. It tore through the parents' tent first, ripping them apart in a matter of seconds. The mother's screaming was what helped him find the campsite. By the time he got there though, it had already moved on to the kids. They'd come out of their own tent to see what was happening. My friend managed to injure the creature before it took off into the woods. He followed after it, meaning to finish it off, but he didn't know it was a werewolf. He had never seen one before so he wasn't prepared. It turned on him and tore him to shreds.

"It was almost three days before a patrolling park ranger found the bodies. They attributed it to just more victims of a vicious animal attack. But we all knew differently, knew it had to be something supernatural. So Frank went out there to look into it himself. He was the one who figured out it was a werewolf; it was the first time he had ever actually seen the carnage in person, but he knew what to look for. By that time, though, it had moved on and the trail went cold," Reggie finished, her voice breaking slightly.

She turned her back on Dean and slammed her coffee cup on the counter. Reggie gripped the edge of the sink, her knuckles turning white. Dean waited patiently as she tried to get her emotions under control. After a few minutes, she took a deep breath and released her grip on the counter.

"This hunter, the one that got killed? He was more than a friend, wasn't he?" Reggie nodded, but didn't move. "I'm sorry for your loss," Dean stated sympathetically. He waited, watching Reggie regain composure again.

"Thank you," she finally whispered. Dean watched as she wiped at her face, feeling like he was intruding on something private.

_Maybe I should go back to bed_, he thought guiltily.

"Sorry for that," Reggie stated, turning to face him again. She grimaced, then tried to smile. "You look like you're ready to bolt out the door," she joked.

"No, I'm fine," Dean lied, chuckling as Reggie cocked an eyebrow in disbelief. "Okay, so maybe I was toying with the idea of running from the room," he relented. Reggie laughed with him. She pushed playfully at his shoulder, the palm of her hand warm through the shoulder of his green t-shirt. He grinned up at her for a moment.

_Good lord is she hot,_ he thought. _Can't go there, Dean! Don't go there!_

"Can I ask _**you**_ a question, now?" He watched as hesitation flitted across her face. Finally, she nodded.

"I guess it's only fair. Just don't you start crying or I _**will **_run from the room," she teased. Dean chuckled and got up from his chair, crossing the room to lean against the counter; wanting to keep some distance between them for the moment.

"You grew up in this house, right?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, pretty much." She eyed him suspiciously, trying to guess the direction of his questions.

"And you've been a hunter for how long?"

"I grew up in a family of hunters so you could technically say my whole life. But I've only been actively participating in hunts for the last seventeen or so. Since I was about eight."

Dean stared at her, openly gaping now. _She's been hunting for most of her life?_ he thought with shock. It wasn't what he'd expected. The life she lived didn't match the pictures on the walls. "Okay, that's _**so**_not what I was expecting for an answer," Dean muttered.

"Why?" Reggie asked, curious.

"Because of the pictures on the walls in your living room. They're so happy, so…_**normal**_. It doesn't match the life Sam and I had, and we've been doing this job since Sam was a baby. We moved from place to place, town to town, never settling long enough to have a life. Our dad was always running us through obstacle courses and training exercises, getting us ready for the real world. The hunt was all he was focused on, all that mattered. I kind of adapted that philosophy, too. I figured that was just a hunters life. The sacrifice that had to be made.

"But then I come here and see all the smiling, happy faces in those pictures and wonder if I was wrong, if _**we**_ were wrong. That the life that Sam had tried so hard to hang on to, to make for himself in each town we went to even after both dad and I told him not to bother, was possible. That we could have been the smiling, happy people in the pictures." Dean shook his head angrily, trying to push away the resentful thoughts flooding his brain.

_How could dad not even try? He could see what Sam wanted, needed, so badly; that normal life. So why couldn't he have at least tried? At least for Sam's sake. I spent all that time trying to make Sammy feel better when dad wouldn't come home because he'd forgotten it was Christmas or Sam's birthday. All the times I would rag on Sam when he would cry because we were leaving another school, telling him to suck it up and act like a man. _Dean fumed as he thought about it all.

"Come with me," Reggie snapped, grabbing Dean's hand and pulling him after her. She led him into the living room, stopping in front of the pictures he couldn't get out of his head. "Do you remember what you said earlier? About how pictures can be deceiving?"

"Yeah, but…"

"No, Dean. You were right." She pointed at a picture showing a smiling Reggie, at approximately six years old, her arms wrapped around a large, hairy mutt of a dog. "See that one? Two days before, I watched my grandfather cut the head off a vampire. It was my first vampire. That dog you see? He was torn apart by a banshee a month later.

"Every photo you see on this wall has terrible memories, as well as good ones, attached to it. I may have had a home to grow up in, but I've had to suffer great sacrifices, too." Reggie paused, then grabbed Dean's arm and pulled him to another group of photos, all of which showed other people. Dean spotted what appeared to be a younger Frank in a few of them.

"Most of the people in these photos are dead. Killed on a job, killed because of the life we live. My father was barely ever home. My mother, when she was home, was never here; taking refuge in a bottle of Jim Beam or Jack Daniels when she wasn't working on a job herself. Both of them died before I even made it to high school.

"My grandfather, my mother's father, died five days after he gave me the Plymouth. I never knew my grandmother or either of my father's parents. My mother was an only child and Frank is the only sibling my father had. I have no brothers or sisters either. Family was never that important in my house; the job was. Frank's the only person I have left; it's probably the reason why I can't put him in a home. I'm fighting against the situation in which I grew up.

"At least your dad kept you together. At least he brought you up as a family," Reggie finished. She stared at Dean, watching as he looked at all the photos, hearing her words echo in his head. Dean didn't know what to say. He opened his mouth then closed it again, floundering for words. After a minute, Reggie smiled weakly at him. "It's okay, Dean. I've made my peace with the life I grew up in. I just thought you should hear the stories behind the photos before you started second guessing your entire life. Second guessing how lucky you are."

Dean turned to stare at Reggie, wishing he could think of something to say to her, to contradict her. Finally, it came to him. "I wouldn't go that far, calling me lucky," he grumbled.

"Because you've been to hell?" Her green eyes grew soft when she saw pain register across Dean's face at her question.

"I can't really think of a better example," he spat.

"Why did you go to hell, Dean?" The way she worded the question, Dean saw that she already knew. _Bobby?_ he growled internally, cursing the hunter's big mouth.

"I think you already know, but I'll answer the question anyway. For Sam. The yellow-eyed demon who killed _**both**_ my parents took him to an isolated town for a kind of death-match between him and these special kids. They all had these freaky powers that developed because of something the demon did to them. Sam died, was murdered by this kid named Jake, so I sold my soul to a crossroads demon to get him back. She gave me one year. When the debt was collected, I was dropped into the pit."

"You sold your soul to bring your brother back even after your father did the very same thing for you?" It wasn't an accusation.

"I couldn't live without Sammy. I wouldn't. There was no other option, no other way." Dean was pacing now. He noticed the sun had begun to rise, the sky outside the bay windows growing lighter as dawn approached.

"I wish I had that," Reggie whispered. It caught Dean by surprise, making him halt.

"You don't, trust me. All my family does is die for one another. It's a sick, twisted cycle that I hope stopped with me." Dean shook his head and flopped onto the couch, closing his eyes and resting his head against its back. He felt Reggie sit down beside him. _Here it comes,_ he thought, waiting for her to ask the next logical question.

"Was the deal worth it?" Dean's eyes flashed open.

Again Reggie surprised him, asking a question he hadn't been expecting her to, but he barely hesitated to answer. "Absolutely." He watched as Reggie nodded, coming to some conclusion in her head. "Aren't you going to ask me what it was like? In hell?"

"No," she stated automatically.

"Why not?" Dean squinted at her, frustrated that he couldn't figure the woman out.

"Because you obviously don't like, or want, to talk about it. I've pressed you on the matter enough already," Reggie replied, matter-of-factly.

"You'd be the first person who didn't want to know."

"Oh, I didn't say I didn't want to know. I just can see it clearly upsets you to think about, so I'm not going to ask you to talk about it."

Dean stared at her, watching as the sunlight inching through the window accentuated the curve of Reggie's jaw, highlighting her lips, sparkling in her eyes. Her hair was pulled away from her face into a loose ponytail, but Dean could see now that the color, which he'd thought was just a mousey brown, was more of a warm, reddish brown.

_Get your mind off the track it's headed, Dean_, he shouted internally. "Thank you," he whispered, his voice husky as he stared sincerely into her eyes. Reggie blinked, as if trying to clear her head. Upstairs, they heard movement and Reggie glanced up at the ceiling, finally breaking the intense moment.

"Well, I better get breakfast started," Reggie stated, rising to her feet. She smiled at Dean before heading back to the kitchen. He could hear the refrigerator door open, followed by the opening and closing of drawers, and the banging of pans as Reggie went to work. A few minutes later, Sam bounced down the stairs into the first wave of delicious aromas wafting from the kitchen.

"Something smells unbelievable," Sam commented, sniffing the air and grinning. He spotted Dean in the living room and frowned. "Didn't you sleep?"

"I got a little," he lied. Sam eyed him in disbelief.

"Breakfast," Reggie called.

Sam shrugged in resignation and turned to wander into the kitchen. Dean took one more look around the living room, replaying Reggie's words again. _I guess I am a little lucky,_ he thought idly before getting up from the couch and following his nose into the kitchen.


	14. Chapter 14

**FOURTEEN**

Lisbon, Maryland

January 21st, 2009

"That has to be _**the**_ best breakfast I have ever had," Sam exclaimed, as he pushed himself away from the table. He beamed at Reggie, who took his empty plate and put it in the sink. As she started to wash the dishes, Sam glared at Dean. His brother was still shoveling in his third helping of food. Dean was completely oblivious to the death stare Sam was giving him as he got up from his chair. _Since you won't lift a finger_..., Sam thought contentiously.

"Let me do that," he offered as he stepped up beside Reggie at the sink. She smiled kindly at him, but shook her head.

"You're a guest. Guests don't do dishes."

"You're making me feel like a mooch. You made this awesome breakfast and now you're cleaning up too? That's not right," Sam replied, again glaring at the back of Dean's head.

"How about I wash and you rinse and dry? We'll work as a team," Reggie suggested. Sam nodded and pushed the sleeves of his shirt up.

He and Reggie worked well together and soon all the dishes, except Dean's, were stacked up on the counter, waiting to be put away. Sam turned to look at his brother, who burped loudly and sat back in his chair. "You done now?" Sam growled.

"I think I'm good, yeah," Dean said, rubbing his stomach contentedly. "You certainly weren't kidding when you said you made a mean omelet, Reggie."

"Thank you," she laughed as Sam snapped the dish towel across Dean's head. Dean swung around and lunged at Sam, but missed and went toppling from the chair in a loud crash. Sam laughed as Dean scrambled up and came at him again, this time armed with his own dish towel.

"I'm going to beat you senseless," Dean cursed, dodging Sam as he swung at him again. Dean tripped on the chair Frank was sitting in and stumbled into the table, sending the salt and pepper shakers flying.

"Alright, alright," Reggie cried. "That's enough. I need my kitchen to still be standing when you guys leave," Reggie scolded, laughing as she yanked the towels from their hands.

Dean offered his hand to Sam. "Truce?" They shook once and smiled at Reggie to show they were going to behave. Just as Sam stepped past Dean to pick up the shakers from the floor, Dean smacked him in the back of the head. Sam spun, trying to shove his brother, but Dean was quicker this time, and Sam missed. "Lightning fast reflexes," Dean stated, laughing as Sam rubbed the spot where Dean had hit him. Frank began to chuckle, too. Sam and Dean froze, staring at the old man in shock.

"You boys remind me of my baby brother, Sean, and me when we were younger," Frank stated. Sam looked to Reggie and saw that she wasn't at all surprised to hear Frank's coherent remarks.

_Today's a good day, I guess_, Sam thought to himself.

"We used to fight all the time. Gave me thirteen stitches once. Hit me with a candlestick right above my eye. I still have the scar." He raised his hand, pointing to a small, white scar above his left eye. "Our mother thought he took my eye out with all the blood pouring from it."

"Sounds about right," Dean said, glancing at Reggie and Sam as he spoke. "Sam and I have given each other a fair share of scars, too. But what else are little brothers good for if you can't beat them up every once in a while?"

Frank chuckled and nodded his agreement. "What indeed. Now, if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to head up to bed and take a nice long nap," Frank declared. He got up from his seat and strode from the room without another word. Both Dean and Sam turned to look at Reggie, who was staring after Frank with a sad expression on her face.

"That has to be strange," Dean stated, clearly trying to break the silence that followed Frank's disparate departure. Sam glared at Dean, who seemed completely oblivious to his tactless remark.

"It can be, yes," Reggie stated. Sam looked at Reggie, surprised and relieved that she hadn't taken offense to Dean's innate ability to put his foot in his mouth. She sighed and stepped away from the counter where she'd been leaning.

"I think I'm going to head upstairs and get dressed," Reggie said, giving them a small smile. "If you need anything, help yourselves or give a yell," she stated before quietly leaving the room. Both Sam and Dean waited, listening to her light steps as she jogged up the stairs.

"Dude, could you sensor your mouth a little?" Sam snapped when he was sure Reggie was out of earshot.

"What are you talking about?" Sam rolled his eyes at Dean's callousness.

"You can be so unbelievably insensitive sometimes," Sam grumbled. He stared at the kitchen doorway, thinking. "So when do you think we should head out?" he asked a moment later, changing the subject.

"I don't know. I think maybe we should stick around a little longer. Ask Reggie a few more questions," Dean said, staring off too.

Sam smirked at his brother. "You just want to stick around and flirt with Reggie some more," he teased. Dean couldn't cover the smile fast enough and Sam began to laugh.

"That's not it," Dean mumbled, chuckling when Sam snorted incredulously. "Okay, so maybe I might think she's incredibly hot and wouldn't mind hooking up with her if we'd met under different circumstances. But right now, we're here on business, and I plan on keeping it strictly that way."

"Since when has that _**ever**_ been your philosophy?" Sam teased.

"Since now." Sam's smile faded from his face as he watched his brother intently. _What is up with him...? _

"So, do you think Reggie knows something more, something she may not know is of importance?" Sam asked. "I mean, she pretty much laid it all out last night and it seemed like she told us everything she could remember."

"There might be. I just think we should stick around a little longer and talk with her. Maybe even ask Frank a few questions." Dean glanced at Sam and shrugged. "It seems like today is a more lucid day. Maybe he'll remember something that he may not have told Reggie." Dean got up from his chair, his eyes focused once again on the doorway. "I think I'm going to jump in the shower. Let me know if you hear from Ruby." He strode from the room, Sam staring after him, confused by his brother's mood.

At Dean's mention of Ruby, Sam pulled out his cell phone and stared at it, as if willing the phone to ring. He hadn't really thought about how long it had been since he'd heard from her.

_I hope she's okay, _he wondered. A few minutes later, he found himself wandering into the living room, curiosity bringing him to the pictures on the walls. _So many smiling happy people,_ he thought jealously.

"Oh no. Not you, too," a voice stated from behind. Sam turned to see Reggie leaning against the doorway, shaking her head at him. She was dressed in traditional hunter's attire: a fitted, long sleeved dark gray shirt over a pair of snug blue jeans, and heavy black boots. Her curly hair fell loose around her face in a soft curtain of auburn and Sam found himself gaping at her. _Dean wasn't wrong about her being incredibly hot,_ he thought.

"What's that?" he managed to finally ask.

"The pictures. You have the same look on your face that Dean did," Reggie explained, crossing the room to stand beside Sam.

"What look is that?"

"The one that says I-must-have-gotten-jipped-growing-up-because-I-was-never-that-happy-as-a-kid look," Reggie stated. "The two of you seriously need therapy. Your childhood wasn't as bad as you think, at least from what Bobby's told me."

"You aren't wrong about the therapy," Sam muttered. He turned to look at Reggie, her words finally sinking in. "What exactly did Bobby tell you about our childhood?"

"That you moved around a lot, just like most hunters; that your dad began training you, prepping you, for the life when you were pretty young; that you tried to have a normal life after you graduated high school. Just the basics, mostly. Bobby isn't that big of a gossip," Reggie joked. She read Sam's face at the mention of his time away, his time with Jess, and her eyes softened. "I'm sorry if I said something that upset you."

"No, it's okay. You didn't, not really. I was just remembering something, that's all," Sam stated, wanting to avoid the look of sympathy in Reggie's green eyes. He smiled at her and added, "Don't worry about it. It was a long time ago. Kind of feels like a completely different life now." He went back to staring at the pictures on the walls. "Why do you think our childhood was better than this?" he finally asked, indicating the pictures.

"Just because someone looks happy in a photo doesn't mean they are. My family was just as dysfunctional as yours, Sam. Perhaps more so. Don't begin to second guess how you grew up just because of some smiling people in some old pictures on my walls," Reggie said.

Sam sighed and turned back to the pictures. "It's hard to imagine you weren't happy."

"There were moments, I'll give you that. But mostly my upbringing was what you would expect. I was dragged from city to city on hunts, watching unimaginable horrors happen to innocent people. My family was usually so spread out that they couldn't be bothered with being an actual family. I only ever really had my grandfather and Frank to count on. My grandfather died when I was sixteen and Frank is, well, you can see how..." Reggie trailed off, looking out the bay windows.

She shook her head, as if to shake away the bad thoughts, and then turned back to Sam. "At least you have Dean. You've always had him and your dad. So don't go knocking the good thing you have." She playfully pushed Sam. He smiled at her and pushed her back.

"Am I interrupting something," a voice from behind snapped, startling both of them. They spun, Sam already recognizing the voice. _Ruby!_, he thought gratefully.

"Who the hell are you," Reggie snapped, glaring at the woman.

"I could ask you the same thing," Ruby snarled back.

"This is my house so I think I get to ask the questions." Reggie turned to Sam, reading the relieved expression on his face. "You know her?" she asked.

"Yeah, this is Ruby. Ruby, this is Reggie Connors," Sam introduced. "Ruby, you really should have called first," Sam stated, taking a step closer to the small, slender brunette woman who stood in the middle of Reggie's living room. She crossed her arms insolently and glared at Reggie over his shoulder.

"The info I was able to get is a little more important than a phone call," she hissed at him, finally tearing her eyes away from Reggie. Her expression softened a little as she looked Sam in the eyes. "You should go get Dean. You both need to hear what I found out."

* * *

"Get that demon out of my house!" Reggie yelled as she tried to push past Dean, pointing a closed flask of holy water at the woman standing across the crowded kitchen from her. "Get her out, now, or I swear I _**will**_ use this!"

"Calm down. Please," Sam pleaded with the female hunter as she attempted to get out of Dean's tight grasp "She's not like other demons, Reggie. She's on our side,".

"I don't care. I don't want that _**thing**_ in my house," Reggie yelled again. Sam watched as Dean tried to control the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. _He could at least act like he doesn't want to let Reggie go_, Sam thought angrily.

"Maybe you should just take Ruby outside, Sam," Dean stated. Sam shook his head sadly, but took Ruby's arm and led her out the back door.

They stepped out onto a small, weather-worn wood porch that was mostly bare except for a small furnace at the opposite end. A strong gust of wind blew through the backyard, making Sam shiver, regretting leaving the house without his jacket.

"Geez, can she overreact! Are you sure you're safe here, Sam?" Ruby said sarcastically, rolling her eyes.

"Don't, Ruby. She's just not used to there being such thing as a 'good' demon. You should understand that. Look how long it took Dean and me." He didn't like Ruby talking badly about Reggie anymore than he liked how Reggie was acting towards Ruby. "You came here to tell us what you found out?" he pressed, hoping to get her mind off of the hunter inside.

"Yes, I did." Ruby took a deep breath and turned her back on Sam. "It took a while for me to find my contact and, at first, he didn't want to give me anything. It took some - shall we say, coercion - to get him to give me something." Sam shuddered at the delight in Ruby's tone. Both Sam and Ruby turned to look as the back door opened and Dean stepped out onto the porch.

"So what'd I miss?" he asked, clearly enjoying the current situation.

"Nothing. Ruby was just going to tell me what she found out," Sam explained. He nodded at Ruby to continue.

"I hate to tell you guys, but Lilith's plans are big. I wasn't able to find out the exact details on the seal, but I was able to find out what this dummy ritual is all about." Ruby looked briefly at Dean before turning back to Sam. "You need to get the hell out of here, Sam. And you need to do it soon. Lilith isn't playing around anymore. She knows the angels are helping you, she knows they know what she's up to, and she's planning on putting a stop to it. Now."

Sam glanced at Dean and saw that his brother was leaning against a faded banister, looking like he hadn't a care in the world. "So what is the dummy ritual, then?" Dean asked, nonchalantly.

"Lilith is setting up a series of murders to lure you into a trap where Malphas and several other higher-level demons are waiting to kill you," Ruby snapped, misreading Dean's dismissive attitude. It was obvious she thought he didn't believe her. "What's his deal?" she asked, rounding on Sam.

"We kind of already know about the fake ritual," Sam explained sheepishly.

"You see, we have our _**own**_ reliable sources, Ruby."

"Fine, then what am I even here for?" Ruby growled.

"That's what I'm trying to figure out," Dean snapped. "You show up, unannounced, which was completely idiotic considering where we are, and tell us exactly what we already know. You haven't given us anything new, anything of use. It's almost like you're dragging us along."

"What's your point, Dean? That I'm lying to you? That I'm in on Lilith's plan and I'm setting you up?" Ruby clenched her hands, seething. Sam stepped between Ruby and Dean, trying to be the buffer.

Dean sighed and shrugged his shoulders. "As much as I wish I could say I believe you're in with Lilith, I don't think it's likely. Lilith hates you almost as much as she hates Sam and me. But I do think you've been had." Dean sighed again as he went back to leaning against the banister. "I think you're source, this demon who _**owes**_ you, set you up, Ruby. I don't know what that means for us exactly, but it can't be good." Dean stared at Ruby and Sam, waiting for what he said to sink in.

"You think they're following her, don't you?" Sam asked, horror twisting his stomach into knots.

"Yup."

"Oh god," Sam moaned, immediately turning to look at the house. Misery gripped him as he realized what they'd brought on Reggie and Frank Connors. "Dean, we have to leave. Immediately. If you're right, then they followed Ruby here."

"_**If**_ I'm right - which, usually am - the only thing we can do is stay, Sam. We can't leave Reggie and Frank to deal on their own with what may be coming. Not when we brought it here."

Ruby was so silent through the exchange Sam almost forget she was there. Finally she spoke up. "Why didn't I see it," she hissed. "I should have known..." She looked up at Sam, her expression sad.

"All we can do now is batten down and wait for the storm," Dean stated, pushing away from the banister. "Until we know what's coming, we have to prepare for everything." Sam stared at his brother, barely able to understand the calm that emanated from him. "I think I'd better go in and talk to Reggie first, before you bring _**her**_ back inside." He tossed him the Impala's keys and strode past Sam who was too stunned to object or respond before Dean was gone.

"I'm so sorry, Sam," Ruby stated, breaking the silence as they made their way to the car. "If I'd known..."

"Stop, Ruby," Sam snapped. He sighed and ran his hand through his hair. "They would have found us anyway. It's not like we were going to walk into the trap they were setting up. They would have had to come looking for us eventually."

"At least we're in a house full of hunters," Ruby offered, hurt at Sam's harsh tone apparent in her voice. Sam offered her a weak smile as he climbed into the Impala, grateful to be out of the rough wind.

* * *

"You should try to leave. Get out while there's still time," Dean stated for what felt like the thousandth time. He had spent the previous thirty minutes explaining to Reggie what was happening and unsuccessfully trying to convince the woman to leave.

Reggie shook her head. "I'm not going anywhere. If what you say is coming, then you'll need all the help you can get."

"It's not safe, Reggie," Dean argued. "You should get Frank and hit the road. This isn't your fight."

"It is now," Reggie stated simply.

Dean snorted. "It's too dangerous to stay."

"This is my job, Dean. This is my home. I'm not going anywhere." Reggie shook her head and held up her hand as Dean opened his mouth to argue again. "Nothing you can say will change my mind so give it up."

Dean growled in frustration. He glared at Reggie for a moment, before finally breaking into a small grin. "I guess I should say thank you then."

"I'd hold off until it's over." She took a deep breath, steeling herself for what she knew was coming next. "Now. Bring in the demon," Reggie declared, grimacing. Dean smiled as he pulled out his cell phone and punched Sam's number on the speed dial.

His brother picked up on on the first ring. "Come on in, Sammy. And bring Ruby with you."

A few minutes later, they heard the front door open and voices in the hallway as Sam dragged Ruby through the house and into the kitchen where Dean and Reggie sat. Dean saw Reggie tense as she looked at Ruby and he reached over, taking the small dagger she'd been playing with while Dean had talked to her out of her hand.

"Just in case," he whispered to her.

"I'm sorry," Ruby blurted out. "I didn't know they were following me."

"It's...okay," Reggie winced. She turned to Sam and smiled at him. "Stop feeling guilty, Sam. There was no way you could have expected this. I don't hold any animosity towards any of you. So stop burying yourself in blame. Right now."

_This woman is unbelievable, _Dean thought in awe as he watched Reggie offer Ruby her chair.

Reggie strolled over to the fridge and pulled out four beers. After handing one to Sam, Ruby, and Dean, she leaned against the counter in front of the sink and took a heavy swig from her own. "So now what?" she asked them. Sam searched the faces of everyone in the room, not sure what to say himself. When no one answered, he began peeling at the label on his bottle.

"I guess the best place to start is by salting all the doors and windows. Maybe put down some devil's traps," Dean offered. He hated sitting around like this. He needed to be doing something.

"I have a few bags of rock salt in the basement downstairs, but almost all my other supplies are in the shed out back," Reggie said. She still looked extremely uncomfortable and Dean could see her taking quick glances at Ruby as she spoke.

"What are you going to do with Frank," Dean asked, hating to ask the question, but knowing it was on everyone else's mind.

"I honestly don't know. He has to be out of harm's way, but we can't exactly lock him alone in a room somewhere." Reggie sighed. "I'm open to any ideas."

"Is there anyone you could call? Anyone that could pick him up?" Sam asked.

Reggie shook her head. "Not anyone that can be here in enough time. Not that we know how much time we actually have."

"I'm guessing not much. I'm sure Lilith is counting on us figuring out her plan. She won't wait long to attack," Ruby said.

"So, I guess we better get to work, then," Dean stated, draining his beer and standing up. "Reggie and I will go out to the shed and get anything we can use. You and Ruby start shoring up inside." He could feel the excitement of the coming battle building inside him as he watched Reggie disappear down the short hallway for a moment. It led to a back room Dean had yet to investigate, raising his curiosity a little. She came back quickly, pulling on a worn, black leather jacket. He grinned at her and she smiled back.

"Let's get started," she said as she led the way out the back door.


	15. Chapter 15

**FIFTEEN**

Lisbon, Maryland

January 21st, 2009

The wind had picked up even more and snowflakes swirled around their heads as Dean and Reggie made their way around the side of the house to the small tin shed hidden among the trees.

"Damn it's cold," Dean complained, yanking his coat closed as the wind whipped through the trees. He noticed that snow had begun to accumulate on the grass and on top of the cars parked on the street.

"Storm's coming," Reggie stated as she watched Dean survey the falling snow. "It looks like it's going to be a bad one, too. When we get back inside I'm going to check out the local weather stations, see what they're forecasting." She unlocked the bolt on the shed door and tried to push it open. It screeched a few inches, then stopped. Reggie pushed at it for a few more seconds, but the door refused to budge any further. "It's stuck," she grunted, still continuing to shove at the door.

"Here, let me," Dean offered.

"Sure, big man. Give it a try," Reggie said sarcastically as she stepped aside, waving Dean forward. Dean rubbed his hands together and stretched his arms as he stepped forward. The metal shed was frigid against his bare hands and he shuddered as a chill ran through him. Dean braced his boots in the frozen ground and shoved, hard. The shed door didn't budge forcing him to scramble in order to stop himself from falling forward. "Careful," Reggie chuckled.

Several more shoves later, the door was open enough for Reggie to squeeze through and she began handing stuff out to Dean. He stuck as much as he could into a beat-up wheel barrel and wheeled it back to the house, dumping it onto the back porch. He knocked once on the door for Sam and Ruby to start bringing the stuff in and started back around to the shed again.

Just as he was crossing the yard, Dean heard a muffled crash from inside the shed. "What are you doing in there?" Dean called to Reggie. When there was no response, he dropped the wheel barrel and raced around the side of the house towards the shed, dread rising in his chest. "Reggie?" he yelled. There was nothing but silence. Dean ran to the open door of the shed and yelled again into the dark.

"Yeah," Reggie finally moaned.

Relief flooded through Dean. "Are you okay?" he asked, pulling out his penlight. He shined it inside, trying to find Reggie amongst the chaos.

"Some stuff shifted and fell on me," Reggie groaned again. Dean spotted her pinned under a pile of boxes and tools in the farthest part of the shed. She pushed against a box on her left leg which only caused more stuff to begin to slide. She paused in her efforts to get free. "I think I'm stuck."

"Hold on. I'll come in and see if I can get you out," Dean said.

He began pulling out various boxes and storage containers so that he could maneuver better. After a few minutes work, he was able to clear enough stuff away for Reggie to get herself up without anything else falling on her. Dean offered his hand to her and she took it, gratefully. They squeezed back outside and Dean flinched as a small box filled with something metal inside crashed to the shed floor. He glanced at Reggie and realized she was bleeding from a gash on her forehead.

"Let me take a look at that," he offered, pointing at the wound. Reggie raised her hand and winced as her fingers settled on the cut. Dean took a step forward and Reggie tilted her head back so that he could get a better look.

"It doesn't look that deep," he noted, pressing lightly around the edges with his fingertips. "I don't think you'll need stitches." He smiled down into her green eyes, becoming very aware of their close proximity. _Back off, Dean_, he warned himself. He took a step back and stuffed his hands into his pockets. Dean could feel Reggie's eyes on him as he tried to look anywhere but at her.

"I think there are only a few more boxes in there that we need," Reggie finally stated. Dean figured it was safe, that he didn't have to worry about the risk of meeting her gaze, and looked back at her again. She was staring into the shed with a resigned expression on her face.

"I'll get them. Just point at the ones we need and I'll hand them out to you," Dean offered. He chuckled as he stared at Reggie. "Besides. I think one head wound for you today is enough. We don't want to risk you getting concussed by Frosty or Rudolph," Dean teased, pointing at the large plastic Christmas decorations shoved to the side. Reggie laughed and pushed at Dean as he squeezed back into the shed. Dean grabbed a box and went to hand it to her before he realized he had left the wheel barrel by the side of the house. "Damn, I forgot the wheel barrel."

"I'll go get it," Reggie stated, plopping the box, which was filled with cans of spray paint and buckets of chalk, onto the ground. He watched her start across the snow covered lawn, before stepping back into the shed. Dean had just turned back to the mess inside when he heard Reggie's voice. The wind made her words muffled and incomprehensible inside the small metal shed, so Dean stuck his head back outside.

"What'd you…" he trailed off. Reggie was frozen in place, a gun pointed at a man in a long, tan trench coat standing in the center of the lawn.

"I asked you who the hell you are. And since I'm the one holding the gun, maybe you should answer me," Reggie snapped.

"I am looking for Dean Winchester. I mean you no harm," the man replied shortly.

"Reggie, it's okay," Dean called out, scrambling out of the shed and in his haste, knocking over a few boxes. "This is Castiel," Dean explained. Reggie turned to Dean, a shocked and slightly confused look on her face. "He's an angel." Reggie turned back to Castiel, this time with an awed expression, and dropped her hands, the one with the gun swinging numbly at her side.

"Sorry…I…" Reggie stammered. Castiel nodded at her then turned his attention to Dean.

"You are aware of what has been happening, I take it."

"That Lilith was planning on using the fool's ritual to lore us into a trap? And now there's a small battalion of demons on their way to try and kill us because we figured it out?" Dean shrugged his shoulders and nodded his head. "Yeah we know."

"Then you know the demons were following Ruby."

"Yeah, we know that too," Dean said in an apathetic tone. "She didn't know they set her up, Cas. It was a mistake, that's all."

The angel shook his head at Dean. "You realize what you have brought down on this girl and her uncle? What will likely happen to them?" Castiel stated, his voice matter-of-fact as he stared at Dean. "They will die , Dean. There is no way to save them from what is coming for you and Sam."

Dean groaned at the angel. "She's aware of what's coming. Reggie knows the score, Cas. She's a hunter and her uncle was a hunter. They've dealt with things like this before. And Sam and I are here, too."

"But you can't protect them while fighting for your life, Dean. You should have left while you still had the chance."

"If we'd left, she would definitely die. Demons aren't known to leave a hunter alive in any situation, and if they would have come here and found that we were gone…" Dean sighed and glanced at Reggie who still stood beside him, silent, as she listened to the conversation between Dean and the angel. "We had to stay. And this place is as good as any for a fight."

Castiel sighed. "You aren't thinking…" he began before Reggie interrupted him.

"I don't see you offering to stay and fight," Reggie growled at the angel, finally deciding to join the conversation. "Am I wrong, but it sounds like you're just scolding Dean, not giving your support? You talk about that dem-…about Ruby like she's the enemy, but at least she's helping. At least she's staying to fight." Dean gaped at Reggie as she glared at the angel.

"You don't understand what Dean's responsibility is. He obviously has not told you everything. I don't suppose he even told you _**why**_ all these demons want to kill him?" Castiel's voice had an edge of anger to it that shocked Dean.

"He's told me enough," Reggie stated, but Dean caught the uncertain glance she threw at him. "It's not like I really asked, either," she said with more certainty.

"I am only concerned with Dean's safety. He is extremely important, his _**mission**_ is extremely important. But you are right, I am not offering to stay and fight with you. My orders are not to interfere unless absolutely necessary."

"Unless absolutely necessary? A group of murdering demons headed here to kill all of us isn't enough for you? For _**Him**_?" Reggie snapped, jerking a finger at the darkening skies. She took a step towards the angel, the hand not holding the gun clenched into a fist. Dean stepped forward and put his hand on Reggie's shoulder, holding her in in place.

"It's not the first time my ass has been on the line and there was no help from above." Dean glanced briefly at the angel. "The consensus seems to be that if I'm not capable of saving my own ass, then I wasn't worth pulling from Hell; that I should be back in the pit, burning on a slab. That's okay, though. I've been taking care of things just fine all my life. I can continue on that road." Dean reached down and took the gun from Reggie's hand. "We'll be fine. Thanks for the belated warning, Cas, but we've still got some work to do, so if you'll excuse us…"

"I will be watching, Dean." The angel disappeared just as there was a loud clap of thunder overhead, making Dean groan again at the dramatic exit.

"What the hell does that mean?" Reggie asked, turning to look at Dean. "Is that his way of saying that he may help if we really need it or just angel speak for "don't screw up"?"

"Probably both." Dean shrugged. "We really should get back inside though. We don't know when what's coming will get here and there's still a lot of work to do." Dean sighed and handed the gun back to Reggie. She took it and slipped it behind her back, into the waistband of her jeans. "You could still get out, you know," Dean said as they began walking back to the house, the other boxes in the shed already forgotten. Reggie stopped in her tracks and glared at him.

"Just stop, Dean. I've already told you, I'm not going anywhere. This fight is as much mine as it is yours. The fate of the world doesn't rest solely on your shoulders, you know." Dean rolled his eyes.

"If only you knew," he muttered to himself as he followed Reggie back across the lawn.

* * *

They had been working for almost three hours in total silence, no one saying a word, each lost in their own thoughts. Reggie and Dean were upstairs, sealing windows with rock salt and drawing devil's traps where they could. The two bathrooms were stocked with as much holy water as they could manage and Sam was in the process of filling a box of canteens with the blessed water they'd filled the kitchen sink with.

Ruby was in the living room loading guns and setting them up for easy access. Frank sat in the kitchen with Sam, muttering incoherently to himself. Reggie had tried to explain to him what was going on, had tried to make him understand why he couldn't leave the room, no matter what. It had been like talking to a small child and it pained Sam to watch; this hunter who could no longer do the job he had done all his life.

Frank had asked for a weapon, had offered to help, but Reggie wasn't sure it was a good idea. She was afraid he wouldn't remember what was going on when all hell broke loose and that was enough for Dean to want to keep the man out of the battle. The plan was to have someone with him, alternating through the wait. The kitchen was going to be a main entry point, but it was also the most defendable, making it the safest place in the house apart from the basement. The basement was their last resort. They all knew that if they went down there, they weren't coming back up. It was a dead end, in the most real sense.

"Well, I think that's it. All we can do now is wait for them to come," Reggie announced as she entered Frank's bedroom, tossing an empty salt bag onto the unmade bed. Dean stood up, having just finished drawing a devil's trap on the floor in front of the only window in the room. He brushed his hands together, trying to get the black chalk off his fingertips.

"So…" she began. Dean looked up at Reggie, curious at the tone in her voice. She sighed heavily and plopped onto the end of the bed. "I know you don't want to talk about it, but I think it's time I know a little bit more about what I've gotten myself into." Dean sat down on the bed beside her, their shoulders slightly touching. He sighed and put his head in his hands, rubbing his temples lightly with his thumbs.

"You're right, you should know what this is about. And I think it's time you hear all of it," Dean said. He rubbed his eyes and took a deep breath. "When I went to hell, it was…well, it was hell. I was burned and torn at, tortured by means you can't even imagine. It was never-ending or, at least, I thought it was." Dean hesitated, deciding to skip over the exact details of his time in hell.

"Then one day five months ago, I found myself trapped in a box, my coffin as it turned out, basically buried alive. I clawed my way out, stole a car, and found Sam with Bobby's help. I was having these weird, episodes I guess you could call them, where I heard this awful noise, this sonic screech. It was unbelievable and so Bobby brought us to his psychic friend, Pamela Barnes. She tried contacting the source of the noise. We thought it was a spirit, a poltergeist or something, attached to me, so we did a séance-like ritual to get it to show itself. Only Pamela's eyes were seared out of her head.

"It was awful but we still didn't know what it was that was following me. Finally, the entity decided it was time for me to see what it was: an angel."

"Castiel blinded Pamela?" Reggie gasped, guessing the event correctly. Dean nodded, but held up his hand to stop her from asking anymore questions.

"By accident, yes. A human isn't meant to look at their real form, not a living human, anyway. It's like pure light and it just burned Pamela's eyes right out of her head.

"Anyway, Castiel told me that he was the one who pulled me out of the pit, on God's orders. He said that I was freed because I'm supposed to stop Lilith from raising the devil. That by opening sixty-six seals, basically the gates to hell, Lucifer will be able to walk the Earth and all humanity will be destroyed. Lilith, of course, doesn't want to be stopped. She's been trying to kill us for a while. Ever since she got the contract for my soul. She's had a couple of chances, too, but it appears she _**can't**_ kill Sam."

Dean paused, trying to decide if he should tell Reggie about Sam's freaky demon-blood powers. He remembered what it was like when other hunters had found out about them; Gordon Walker and another hunter by the name of Kubrick had hunted them. They figured that anything that was attained by demon blood had to be bad and the carrier, like with an infection, needed to be exterminated. Dean knew he couldn't leave it out without leaving more questions. He had to hope for a better reaction, like Bobby and Ellen's had been.

Dean took another deep breath and stood up, walking to the window to stare out at the raging snow storm blowing outside. "Lilith can't kill Sam because the yellow-eyed demon who killed our parents did something to him. Bled into his mouth when he was a baby, on the night our mother was murdered, and changed him. He has these abilities and, it seems, they make him immune to her, to her powers. I still don't understand most of it so it can be a little hard to explain properly."

Dean frowned at his reflection in the window. "Sam's not a demon, so don't think that," he rushed out, realizing as he said it, he wasn't so convinced himself anymore.

"Because Lilith can't kill him herself, because he presents a threat to her, she's been trying to get rid of us by other means. She set up this trap, this fool's ritual, to kill us. We came to town, following her little breadcrumbs, and started looking around.

"When we couldn't identify the pentagram, Sam called Bobby to see if he could help. So Bobby called around, you called him back with the only lead we could get, and that basically brings us to where we are now. The trap was tripped because of the info you gave us. So now Lilith's improvising, sending lackeys to do her dirty work."

Dean wiped at the window, his breath having fogged it over, and continued to stare out. The room was darker, the storm having blotted out most of the sun. He could just make out another house in the distance. He waited for Reggie to speak, waited for her to say something, anything, but she remained quiet.

Finally, he couldn't take it anymore and he turned around to look at her. She was still sitting on the bed, watching him. "Are you going to say, I don't know, something?" Dean asked, anxiety oozing from every inch of his body.

"Well…" Reggie began hesitantly. She seemed to be struggling to find words. "Can you sit down please? Looking at you standing up is giving me a crick in my neck," she snapped. Dean immediately obeyed and sat down on the bed beside her again, giving her more space this time. Reggie took a deep breath and ran her fingers through her hair. "I just wanted to know what this demon, Lilith, was up to. Why she wanted to get rid of you and Sam so bad to do it," she murmured.

Reggie met his gaze and gave Dean a small, half-smile. "But I'm glad you decided to tell me all of it. I appreciate you trusting me enough to tell me everything." She sighed and stood up. Dean followed her with his eyes, watching her face, trying to read what was going on inside her head. "Can I ask you one more question? I promise it'll be the last."

"Shoot."

"Ruby and Sam are…involved, aren't they? They're close?" Dean nodded. It still disturbed him to think his brother had gone there with a demon. "Well, that isn't something you see every day, is it?" Reggie muttered as she plopped down next to Dean again. She leaned against his shoulder, the warmth emanating from one body comforting to the other. Dean could smell her shampoo, much stronger now because of the close proximity, and he inhaled. She shifted slightly to face him, her knee pressing warmly against his. Her green eyes flickered to his and she smiled when she saw he was staring at her.

Dean reached up and brushed a strand of hair back behind her ear and felt her shudder lightly at his touch. He smirked and placed his hand gently against her cheek. "You know, usually at this point I would be making my move," Dean said, his voice low and husky.

"What's stopping you?" Reggie whispered back. When Dean opened his mouth to respond, she rolled her eyes, grabbed the front of his shirt in her hand, and pulled his lips to hers. The kiss was soft, but intense, making Dean's head swim. Hands began to roam as his eyes drifted closed.

"Ahem," a throat cleared from the doorway. Dean and Reggie pulled apart and turned to find Sam standing in the doorway. "Sorry. I didn't mean to interrupt, but I think you guys better come see this." Dean saw Reggie blush before she strode from the room. Dean beamed at Sam who just shook his head. "Thought you weren't going there?" Sam teased as they made their way down the hall.

"Hey, she kissed me!"

"Sure she did," Sam replied sarcastically. Dean tried to pretend he was offended by Sam's assumption, but couldn't hold the indignant look he'd been going for. A grin spread across his face once more.

"What's up?" Dean asked as they entered the living room. Ruby was standing behind the couch, which had been overturned to use for cover, looking out the bay window. Reggie stood stiffly a few feet from her and when she turned to look at Dean, his stomach sank at the expression on her face. Dean glanced at Sam, noticing the grave look in his brother's eyes for the first time and went to see what they were looking at.

Out in the yard stood nine people, men and women of different ages and races, all staring back at the Connors' house. It was evident from the way they were standing that each and every one of them was possessed by a demon, their black onyx eyes apparent through the swirling snow that whipped around them.

For several minutes, no one moved, no one said a word. As they watched from inside the house, a woman who appeared to be in her mid-thirties with long bleach-blonde hair and dressed in nothing but a red silk shift negligee, lifted her hand and motioned with one finger for them to come outside. Dean snorted, breaking the silence.

"Screw you," he said, knowing he didn't need to shout for the demons on the lawn to be able to hear him. The woman shook her head sadly and grinned a twisted smile. A tall black man who couldn't have been much younger than Frank, dressed in a one-piece, dark blue repairman's jumper, raised his hand. He waved once at them, mockingly, then pointed his finger like a gun at the transformer in front of the house, and pretended to pull the trigger. The transformer exploded in a shower of sparks and blue flame. The lights inside the house abruptly went out.


	16. Chapter 16

**SIXTEEN**

Lisbon, Maryland

January 21st, 2009

"Nobody move," Dean yelled. "We don't need to be stumbling around, smacking into each other in the dark. Let your eyes adjust first." Dean could sense someone close by. Sam, he guessed, considering where everyone had been standing before the lights had gone out. He heard a loud bang as someone knocked into something, followed by a curse under their breath. "Stay put, Ruby, and give it a minute," he ordered. A beam of light from a flashlight began waving around the room.

"I was trying to get the flashlights I put on the damn coffee table so we wouldn't have to wait," she snapped at him. She tossed one to Dean and Sam first before putting one into Reggie's outstretched hand.

"I have to go check on Frank," Reggie stated, weaving around the scattered furniture. Dean could tell she was worried about the ailing hunter being alone.

"I'll come with you," he offered, following her into the kitchen. "We should stick together, anyway." Dean bumped into her in the doorway.

Reggie was stopped dead in her tracks, her body rigid. With stunning realization, Dean saw that the room was empty. Frank was nowhere in sight. He realized, at the same moment Reggie did, that the back door out onto the porch stood open, the frigid storm winds banging the screen door against the jam.

"Oh god, Frank," Reggie gasped. She began calling her uncle's name, rushing to the door. Dean barely had time to grab her when a heavy-set, bald man appeared in the doorway, blocking Reggie's path. His white t-shirt was stained with food and his green sweatpants barely managed to stay up, hugging his wide hips just below his massive stomach. He grinned sadistically at them but didn't enter. There was still enough rock salt in the door frame to stop him from coming inside. "Frank," Reggie screamed, struggling to get free of Dean's hold. "Let me go. I have to get Frank. I have to get him back inside."

"Hey Dean, listen to the lady and let her come get her uncle," the man said tauntingly, his eyes flashing as he eyed Reggie.

Dean growled at the demon and spun Reggie around, grasping her arms tightly above the elbows. "You can't go out there," he yelled at her. She yanked her arms down, trying to break free of his grasp, but Dean held tighter. His stomach was in knots and agony had locked his heart in his chest. "It's too late, Reggie. I'm sorry, but it's…."

"Let go, Dean. I have to get him. I have to get Frank before _**they**_ do," she cried. "Please, I have to get Frank." Dean could see the despair in Reggie's eyes, but he held her firmly in place.

"You _**could**_ just wait for us to bring Frank to _**you**_, sweetheart," the demon purred. "We're taking good care of him for you, don't worry." Reggie screamed in fury and tried to twist out of Dean's grip, hitting him with her fists.

"I'm going to kill you, you bastard," she screamed. The demon laughed at her and slammed the door in their faces, cutting off the howling, freezing wind. Reggie slumped against Dean's chest, defeated and devastated. Dean let go of her arms and wrapped his own around her, holding her to his chest, her body racking with sobs. He had to be sure she wasn't going to make a run for the door the moment he let go, so he continued to hold her even after he felt her gain control of herself.

"I'm so sorry, Reggie," he murmured over and over again. He heard voices calling from the living room; Sam and Ruby asking about the noise. Sam's got louder as he came to check on them. He froze in the entryway, taking in the scene before him.

"What happened?" he asked, gasping as he counted the people in the room. "Where's Frank?" When no one answered, he stepped into the room. "Dean?"

Dean opened his mouth to answer, but Reggie beat him to it. "Outside. He must have gone out when they blew the transformer." She pushed against Dean's chest, but he held onto her. "Let go, Dean. I'm not gonna go running outside." Dean looked down at her face, saw that she was telling the truth, and let go. He turned to Sam, misery etched across his face.

"Reggie, I'm so sorry," Sam whispered.

"Sam, you and Dean better get out here," Ruby called again from the living room. Reggie pushed past them and rushed out of the kitchen. "I don't think you want to be here," they heard Ruby state, a hint of sympathy in her voice.

"Go to hell. Oh wait, you already have," Reggie snapped. "Just get out of my way, Ruby," Reggie continued coldly.

Dean and Sam came in just as Ruby took a step away from the window, getting out of Reggie's way. Sam put himself by the front door, partly in preparation in case he needed to stop Reggie if she made another attempt to get outside, but also because he really didn't want to see what was going on outside. Dean went to stand by Reggie's side, his stomach dropping like a stone at the sight outside the window.

Frank lay in the middle of the sloping front lawn, his lifeless body sprawled out on the accumulating snow. Blood from a large wound in the man's side, had turned the pristine white a disgusting cherry red. They all watched as another demon, this one possessing a short, black-haired Korean girl who was no more than sixteen, knelt down beside Frank's body and whispered something in his ear. The man's body twitched once, before laying still once more. Dean pulled Reggie from the window just as a snow ball hit the glass with a thud. A hairline crack in the window appeared at the point of impact.

"They're throwing snowballs with rocks in them," Sam growled. Everyone looked at Reggie, pity in their eyes.

"The windows will hold. It's treated, double-plated glass. It may crack a little but it won't break." All emotion was gone from Reggie's voice. Her eyes were blank, her face expressionless. Reggie looked dead inside. _I recognize that look all too well,_ Dean and Sam both thought at the same time. "They're going to make their move soon. We should get ready."

Ruby looked at Sam for a moment before heading upstairs, taking her position in one of the bedrooms that looked out onto the backyard. "I'll take the kitchen," Sam offered.

The original plan had been for Dean and Sam to set up in the living room while Reggie watched the kitchen, and Frank, for the first shift. They had planned on circulating positions every two hours, hoping the change would keep everyone alert. With Frank gone, there was no need for any of it, making Sam feel awkward and sad.

Reggie shrugged, apparently sensing she would lose any argument if she objected, and sat down in one of the recliners, staring blankly at the big bay windows. Sam gave Dean a quick pat on the back as he walked past and left without another word.

Dean took a hesitant step toward Reggie. "I'm so sorry."

She looked over at him, still completely numb. "Why?"

"This is my fault. We came here to get your help and we brought death and destruction on you."

"I told Bobby to let you come."

"Yeah, but you didn't know what was going on. You didn't know we were mixed up in all this."

"Bobby gave me an idea. And I _**am**_ a hunter, Dean, remember?"

"Yes, but this stuff doesn't often follow you home. You and Frank should have gotten out while you still could." Dean pounded his hand against the wall.

"I told you I wasn't going anywhere. I chose to stay." Reggie sighed and her eyes suddenly brimmed with tears. She slammed her clenched fists down on the arms of the chair. "My uncle is dead because of _**me**_. It's my fault." She fought against the emotions raging to get out; the despair, the pain, the anger.

"No, it's my fault. I should have made you leave." Dean glanced out the window and saw that at least three of the possessed people outside were gone now, probably trying to find another way inside.

"Don't," Reggie snapped, startling Dean with the fierceness with which she spoke. "I can see you seem to think that every person is your responsibility, that the world really _**is**_ on your shoulders! That, because Castiel pulled you from hell to stop the devil from reigning hellfire on all of us, you're responsible for every heart that beats in this world. But you're wrong, Dean! Every person isn't your responsibility because you can't _**be**_ everywhere! You _**can't**_ save everyone.

"The plan is for you to stop Lilith and that's what will save people. Don't you dare take what happened to Frank as your fault. Don't you dare take what happened here to mean that you failed yet another person." Dean blinked at her as she glared at him, her breath ragged as the fury poured out.

"She's right," a voice stated from the top of the stairs, making them jump. Castiel stood looking down at them with a look of regality about him.

"I thought you were just going to watch," Reggie barked at the angel, turning her anger on him. "Not listen in on private conversations and add commentary."

"A wise woman pointed out earlier that I was ordered to offer assistance if absolutely necessary. I think the current situation may have become just that." Castiel proceeded down the stairs and into the living room, stopping beside Dean who had absently moved closer to where Reggie sat. "Of my comment - I was merely agreeing with you. You've just said to him what I have been trying to get him to see since the beginning," Castiel stated. "Not that he believes either of us."

"Hello? Still here in the room?" Dean called out in irritation, waving his hands in the air. "Can you stop talking about me like I'm not here, please?" Reggie looked at him and offered a weak smile.

"Get ready. Someone's coming towards the house," Ruby yelled from upstairs. "Looks like they're going for the windows downstairs." Just as she spoke, there was a crash from the only room Dean had yet to enter. He knew Sam had been the one to secure it with rock salt so he was confident the demon wasn't getting in.

Castiel seemed to read this in his demeanor and shook his head. "Expect anything, Dean. These demons are not the typical kind you've dealt with. Some of them are higher-level demons, like Lilith. Many of the protections you have set up may not work on them."

"They're trying to break-in in here, too," Sam called from the kitchen. The bay windows began to vibrate violently, the ground shaking as if they were experiencing an earthquake.

A crash resounded from somewhere above and Dean sprinted up the stairs, pulling out his gun as he raced down the hall. "Castiel, watch Reggie," he yelled to the angel as he disappeared into her bedroom.

Dean came face to face with a tall, gray haired woman dressed in a pale pink suit snagged in the devil's trap Reggie had drawn on the ceiling halfway through the room. He began laughing as the demon screeched at him, pacing the invisible circle in which she was stuck.

"I'm going to peel the meat from your bones," she roared. "It'll be just like it was in hell, Dean." This brought Dean's laughter up short and he pulled out a small tape recorder, pushing play, before setting it on the dresser.

Sam's voice began to chant from it. "Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii…" Dean chucked the demon the finger as he strolled from the room, it's screams of pain and outrage echoing down the hall after him.

"One down," he called, heading back downstairs. He could hear crashing and banging from the kitchen. "Sam?" he yelled, concern rising in his gut.

Castiel and Reggie were no longer in the living room Dean realized, but her tried to give it little thought as he raced through to the kitchen. He found Sam pinned against the fridge by the fat man who had taunted Reggie, a bottle of holy water just out of his brother's reach on the counter. The demon was choking Sam, a gleeful expression on his face.

Dean rushed to his brother's aide, yanking the man off and slamming him into the stove. Pots and pans clattered and spun into the sink and onto the floor around their feet. The demon roared and rushed at Dean. Sam was quicker and he threw the holy water into its face. The demon screamed in pain, raising his hands to his face, and stumbled backward through the open basement door. They heard him tumble down the stairs, the bones of the body he was inhabiting snapping loudly as they broke in the fall. Sam slammed the door closed and poured a circle of rock salt around it, sealing the demon inside.

"Thanks," he huffed, still trying to get his breath back. They both turned as a loud boom thundered through the house, rattling the cabinets.

"Need a little help up here," Ruby yelled as they raced into the living room, trying to find the source of the noise. Castiel was bent over the Korean girl, his hands on her head, chanting softly to himself. The girl screamed and thrashed, but remained trapped in the angel's grasp.

"Where's Reggie?" Dean asked the angel as he scanned the room again. Castiel glanced up at him for a moment.

"I believe she went that way," the angel said, nodding down the hallway. Sam took off up the stairs to help Ruby, who was battling two demons at once as Dean went to check on Reggie. Dean had only made it halfway down the dark hallway when he was suddenly sacked from behind, causing his gun to go skittering across the floor, out of reach. The black man from before picked Dean up as if he were a rag doll and slammed him into the wall, knocking the breath from his lungs.

"It will be my pleasure to dispose of you for Lilith," the demon snarled as he continued to slam Dean into the wall. Dean head butted the man, staggered when he was dropped as the demon grabbed his broken nose, then threw himself at the man's waist. They plowed through a wall into a small laundry room, banging into the washer and dryer. Dean stumbled out of the man's reach as he became caught in the devil's trap painted on the tile floor. Dean realized there was another door into the house from the washroom. That door now stood ajar. Dread turned his stomach to stone.

"Dammit Reggie," he cried, before rushing outside. He spotted her a few feet from the house, lying on her back on the ground, as a demon, this time a ten year old boy dressed in train-covered pajamas, advanced on her, raising a long metal pipe above his head. Dean put on a burst of speed, closing the distance in seconds, tackling the unsuspecting boy to the ground. Reggie scrambled to her feet and kicked the pipe from the boy's grasp.

"Can you hold him?" she asked.

"Yeah, I think so. Just hurry. We don't want any more of these bastards coming up on us while we're out here," Dean panted, grappling with the kid as he struggled to get free.

"Exorcizamus te, omnis immundus spiritus, omnis satanica potestas, omnis incursio infernalis adversarii, omnis legio, omnis congregatio et secta diabolica…." Reggie began chanting. The boy screamed and Dean clamped a hand over his mouth, trying to muffle the sound.

They could hear the battle raging inside even over the howling wind and Dean longed to get back inside; to check on Sam. Reggie finished the incantation and Dean felt the boy's body go lax as a cloud of black smoke poured from his mouth and nose. "We better get back inside," she stated. Gun fire echoed across the yard from inside and a window on the second floor shattered above them.

Immediately, Reggie took off towards the house, heading for the laundry room. Dean grabbed her arm, stopping her. "I trapped a demon in there. We can't get back through that way," he yelled over the howling wind. She nodded and they raced around the side of the house to the back door and into the kitchen.

They rushed through the door and scrambled past the overturned furniture, heading for the living room. Dean took the stairs two at a time, Reggie close on his heels. Castiel was holding down a heavy set woman still in curlers and a bathrobe as Ruby fought with a guy dressed in all leather biker gear.

"Sam?" Dean yelled, trying to find his brother. As if in answer, Sam came hurtling out of an open doorway and crashed into the banister. Sam tottered there, his hands pin-wheeling in the air, before he toppled backwards over the railing. "Sammy!" Dean yelled as his brother plunged out of sight.

Dean lunged forward, but Reggie was already there, grabbing Sam's outstretched hand at the last second. "I've got you," she grunted, struggling to hold on to him. She had just managed to pull Sam up enough for him to grab hold of the banister and give her some leverage when the demon Sam had been attacked by stepped into the hallway.

The man was immense with bulging arms covered in thick, dark hair. If Dean hadn't seen a real werewolf before, he would have sworn that was exactly what this man was. The demon roared and lunged at Reggie's unprotected back. She screamed in pain and shock as it pinned her against the banister, rocking the railing forward with the weight. Dean picked up a gun, barely noticing that it was his favorite double-barrel shotgun, and fired into the man's back. The demon barely flinched and instead lifted Reggie into the air.

Sam let go of the railing and dropped onto one of the recliners, the very one Dean had sat in when they first arrived. It broke apart with a crunching sound, the chair taking most of the impact from Sam's fall. He rolled just as their father had taught them and came up in a ready stance, his eyes focused on the landing above. Just as Dean registered his brother's safety, he had to watch in horror as the monster before him threw Reggie into the air over the banister. Dean fired again at the man, who finally turned to face him.

"You've caused us so much trouble," the man said, his voice deep and filled with fury. "I'll enjoy putting your head on a pike." He advanced on Dean, chuckling as Dean brought his gun up again to fire. "You know that won't kill me. I barely even feel a thing. But you won't be so lucky, Dean. I'm going to make sure you feel every second of the pain I'm going to inflict on you." The demon grinned sadistically. "Alastair says hello, by the way."

Dean roared and launched himself at the man, his momentum causing them to fall down the stairs. They tumbled and rolled down the stairs entangled in each other. Dean hit the bottom first, his head bouncing off the hardwood floor, stars flooding his vision. He shook his head, trying to clear it, but was grabbed by the throat by two very strong hands, their grip a vice around his windpipe. They began to squeeze and the stars turned into solid red as the air - the life - was choked out of him. Dean could hear Sam calling his name but it sounded distant, like from down a long tunnel.

There was a loud bang and suddenly he could breathe again. He gasped for air, choking on it as it flooded his lungs. Dean felt hands on his back and tried to fight against them. "Easy, easy. It's me, Dean. It's Reggie," a voice hissed in his ear. He blinked his eyes rapidly, trying to clear the bursts of stars and red still lingering and saw that it was, in fact, the female hunter. She pulled him gently into the entryway and handed him a bottle of water.

"Where - where's - ?" Dean choked.

"Sam's fine," Reggie said, answering Dean's unspoken question. "Those are some powers he has. He forced that demon out as it was choking you." She shuddered. "I can see why it bothers you."

Dean gawked at her, trying to make sense of what she was saying. He began searching the room for Sam, spotting him standing over the slumped, unconscious form of the man that had just tried to kill them. Castiel stood at the top of the stairs looking down on the scene as Ruby hovered as far away from the angel as she could but still close enough to see the three hunters below.

"How'd you - " Dean began before a coughing fit doubled him over, his throat so raw it burned.

"Sam, actually," Reggie answered. "He managed to get the couch under me in enough time to break most of my fall." She winced as she tried to shift to help Dean sit up. "I think my leg might be broken. But, all things considered…" She shook her head. "It was close, for all of us, but it looks like we made it out all right."

"Dude, what were you thinking, taking on Bigfoot like that?" Sam laughed shakily, offering Dean his hand to help pull him up.

"I saved your ass, didn't I?" Dean grinned and took another swig of water, wincing as it burned his throat. "There's a demon caught in the laundry room and that guy in the basement has to be dealt with." He raised his eyebrow at Sam and waited.

"Fine. I'll go take care of them," Sam grunted, a smile tugging at his lips.

"I'll help you," Ruby called as she hurried down the stairs. Dean noticed Castiel was gone.

"Where'd Cas go?" he coughed. Reggie looked around, too.

"I guess he split." Reggie shrugged. "I mean, you survived, so his job's done. For now anyway." She eyed Dean for a moment, then shook her head. "Do you think you can help me up?" Dean nodded and helped her to her feet, letting Reggie lean on him as they headed into the kitchen.

Ruby was picking up the chairs as they entered and Dean eased Reggie into one. They could hear Sam's voice drifting up to them from the basement as he performed the exorcism on the overweight demon. A few moments later, he clomped up the stairs, weariness already settling on his young face.

"Did you get the one in the laundry room?" Dean asked.

"Yeah, I got him first." Sam handed Dean his gun back and slumped into one of the chairs, rubbing the back of his head. "That last guy was a monster," Sam stated, wincing as his fingers touched a lump on the back of his skull. "I'm not even sure where he came from. One minute I was checking the third bedroom and the next I'm being clubbed over the head." Sam shrugged and shook his head, which only caused him to wince again.

"Wait. Something's not adding up. We saw how many demons on the lawn?" Reggie asked, looking up at Dean and Ruby, then at Sam.

"Nine, I think," Sam said.

"Right, okay. That's what I thought. Dean and I took care of the little boy in the yard and he trapped the one in the laundry room. Then there was the one he got upstairs in the devil's trap. Sam took care of the one in the basement and the big guy. I think Castiel helped with two of them. That's only seven."

"Ruby?" Sam asked.

"There was just the one," Ruby replied.

"So that leaves one unaccounted for," Dean stated, pulling back the hammer on his gun. They all froze, waiting for an attack. They glanced around before Sam and Dean left the room, leaving Ruby and Reggie behind in the kitchen, waiting on pins and needles as Dean and Sam checked the house.

A few minutes later, the guys came back, looking relieved. "Huh." Dean shrugged and spun a chair around, sitting down and resting his arm on its back. "Guess it took off when it saw we were winning."

"I'm not so sure that's what it was doing," Reggie said, frowning. "I think maybe it was here to watch. To see if we made it out alive."

"Do you think they're going to send more?" Ruby asked.

"Probably, but how can we know for sure? I think maybe we should blow out rather than stick around to find out," Dean stated. He glanced at Reggie, worried about what was going to happen to her once they left. She couldn't stay in the house, that much was obvious.

"Don't give me that look, Dean," Reggie snapped. "I'm coming with you. I can't stay here and I have just as much right to be involved in stopping Lilith as you do." Sam and Dean looked at each other, knowing they couldn't argue with Reggie. Sam looked to Ruby.

"Oh, you know I'm not going anywhere," she stated.

Dean got up and pushed the chair back under the table. "Well, I guess we better start packing, then."


	17. Chapter 17

**SEVENTEEN**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 21st, 2009

**The bar was eerily silent, the patrons watching the man rage at the counter. "They were more prepared than we thought," Malphas growled, throwing an unopened bottle of scotch into the mirrored wall behind the bar. **

**The bartender, a tall, buxom blonde dressed in snug jean shorts and a tight fitting pink tank top, shook her head and rolled her gray eyes. "We didn't count on them being with another hunter. If we had known, we could have planned better." Malphas glared at her and she took a hesitant step back. "They had their angel, Castiel, there as well. How could you expect a victory when they had divine help?" **

**"I don't need your pity, Deumos! I was there, remember? I saw what happened. They knew we were coming. They'd had time to plan. Much more than they should have." Malphas slammed his fists onto the bar and it cracked. Glasses rattled and a few more bottles shattered on the hardwood floor as they fell from shelves.**

**"I told Lilith not to wait! I told her not to allow them the time to figure out our plans. That following Ruby would lead us to the Winchesters and if we acted quickly, we could annihilate them all and be done with this foolishness," Malphas continued to rage. "When she told me of her plan, that she was going to use the Fool's Ritual again, I became worried. She has told me time and time again that the Winchesters are not stupid, yet she expected them to walk into such a poorly lain trap? How could she expect things to turn out any differently?" **

**"Perhaps I should have sent someone else to lead the charge?" a tiny voice hissed behind him. Malphas closed his eyes and took a deep breath. **_**I should have held my tongue. I should have known she would appear today**_**, he thought dejectedly.**

**"I'm sorry for my insolence, Lilith. I only meant that without knowing what you've anticipated, it would appear that the sacrifices made yesterday were unnecessary." He turned to look at the little girl with blonde curls glaring up at him. **

**"I hadn't realized I needed to explain myself to you, Malphas. I apologize and humbly ask for your forgiveness." The little girl bowed dramatically, pulling up the sides of her frilly yellow dress in a curtsy. Lilith was mocking him which only made Malphas more concerned. The bar had gone completely still. The other patrons, all demons as well, were waiting to see what would happen next. The little girl blinked up at him, waiting for him to respond. **

**"I did not mean to question your authority, Lilith." **

**"Of course you did. Why else would you be spouting such idiocy?" A murmur went through the room and Malphas felt his host's body react to the unease; his palms began to sweat and beads of perspiration formed on the back of his neck. Malphas tried to relax against the restricted feeling in his lungs.**

**"You have tried my patience too much in the last few weeks, Malphas. I've let you get away with too much, so I can only blame myself for the fallacy in which you speak now. What a disappointment you have become." Lilith climbed up onto the bar stool next to him and folded her hands neatly on the counter. **

**"I'm **_**not**_** questioning your authority, merely saying that it would be more prudent to know the outcome you expect. I have overstepped my boundaries and for that I am truly sorry." **

**"You aren't yet, but you will be," she purred, the pale blue eyes going opaque in an instant. The body Malphas possessed begin to twitch and he felt an immense pressure similar to a human heart attack in his chest. A tearing began from within and Malphas was unable to contain the shriek of pain that ripped from him. Lilith's smile was ironically sympathetic as she forced his soul back into hell.**

**The whole ordeal took only seconds, but his screams continued to echo through the silent bar. No one moved, fear freezing them in their places. But Lilith's bad mood seemed to have cleared as she began swinging her legs and humming. "Deumos?" she called, gaining the attention of the bartender. "Be a good girl and make me a strawberry milkshake." The bartender immediately obeyed and soon the bar returned to a light buzz of activity. **

**Deumos stole glances at Lilith as she worked, disturbed by how calm her leader was after the debacle that had happened the afternoon before. The Winchester boys were a major thorn in Lilith's side and the rise of Lucifer seemed to be incumbent on their demise. Yesterday's mistake would cost them all dearly, as evidence of what happened to Malphas moments ago.**

**"Don't fret, Deumos," Lilith stated, as if reading the demon's mind. "You have done nothing to irritate me. Well, nothing yet, anyway." She took the milkshake from Deumos as soon as the bartender set it down, and, bouncing on the stool, began to suck merrily on the straw. "This is very good!" **

**"If I may ask? What are you going to do about the Winchesters now?" a dark skinned, heavy-set man dressed in a dark blue suit asked from a booth in the farthest corner. He flinched as Lilith abruptly stopped bouncing. She smacked her lips loudly, before slipping off the stool to skip over to where he sat. **

**"Well, Verin, I think that is a very good question. You see, what Malphas failed to grasp is that I want Sam and Dean dead, true, but I also need to remain hidden. What happened yesterday will surely draw them back to Pennsylvania and that is bad, very bad. How am I supposed to complete my task here with them snooping around?"**

**Lilith sighed and glanced around the room. "What I need is someone to preoccupy them while I am finishing up here and I think **_**you**_** have just volunteered." She giggled, the sound sending shivers through every demon in the bar, and skipped back to the counter where her milkshake sat. The little girl scooted onto the stool, finished the milkshake, and then asked for another one. She beamed at Deumos as the woman placed the refilled glass in front of her.**

**"You should do me a favor," she quipped to the bartender. **

**"What?" Deumos stuttered. **

**"There's this pesky girl with the Winchesters, a female hunter, that I want dealt with." **

**"Not that I have a problem with killing hunters, but can I ask why her specifically?" Deumos cringed, waiting for Lilith's reply. **

**"Well, you see, she's the reason they knew about the Fool's Ritual, about my trap for them. If she had kept her meddling nose out of things, Sam and Dean may still be chasing their tails." Lilith took a sip of her milkshake and smiled up at Deumos. "It's a shame, actually, because she's a pretty girl. It seems such a waste, really. But there's a bonus to her elimination. It seems Sam and Dean have grown fond of this hunter. Especially Dean." Lilith finished the second milkshake, her straw sucking loudly the last bit from the bottom of the glass. "That was very good, Deumos." **

**"Thank you," the woman muttered. The little girl hopped off the stool and turned back to the demon in the dark suit again. **

**"Be sure to do a good job, Verin. I don't like to be disappointed." With a bright flash of white light, Lilith disappeared. A sigh of relief went through the bar and Verin stood up. **

**"What are you going to do?" a short, balding man with wire rimmed glasses and a nasally sort of voice asked from a table by the large front window. **

**Verin sighed and shrugged. "I don't know, but I have to think of something. It's not like Lilith gave me a choice, did she?" A murmur of sympathy went through the bar and he sighed again. "I'm open to any ideas." **

* * *

It was an odd feeling, watching the pyre burn Frank Connors' body. It reminded Sam too much of when they had done the same to their father. He leaned against the Impala, his hands stuffed deep into the pockets of his jeans, staring at the flames as they flared brightly. Dean had insisted on helping Reggie with the preparations even though she had told them to go on to Philadelphia ahead of her.

_It's better this way,_ Sam thought. _No one should have to do this alone._

His brother stood next to Reggie now, the two of them only a few feet from the fire. It had taken most of the day to clean up Reggie's house before driving out to a secluded area to perform the ceremony they now stood watching. Ruby sighed heavily beside him and Sam turned to look at her.

"What's on your mind?"

"Nothing I want to talk about right now," she said, wrapping her arms tightly around herself. Sam continued to stare at her, trying to read her face. "Fine," she snapped, glaring at him. "I was just thinking that we really should get out of Dodge. Lilith is going to be expecting us to return to the city and, after what happened yesterday, she's going to be in one hell of a mood. Her next plan of attack is going to make yesterday look like a vacation day in Disneyland."

"We can handle it."

"You know, that's Dean's response to everything and now, it's seems to be rubbing off on you," Ruby snapped. "I'm worried, Sam. Can you honestly say that stopping Lilith from opening this one seal is worth risking anymore lives?" She glanced at Reggie before returning her gaze to Sam's. "Can you live with that on your conscience? Do you think Dean can?" She sighed again. "Do you think he can live with anymore pain on his soul?"

Sam couldn't answer her. He looked over at his brother, remembering what Dean had told Sam the night they had helped Anna. They had been working practically non-stop since that night, moving from place to place, job to job. Sam could see that his brother was trying to compensate, to make up for the pain he caused in hell by saving as many people as he could. Sam didn't agree with Dean's obsession, but he could understand it.

"I know what Dean went through down there. I know what it's like in the pit, suffering day in and day out. I know what happens to a person, to a soul, when they can't take it anymore. No one can stand the pain forever, Sam."

"He's told me," Sam said in a hushed voice. The flames had begun to die down and the sun was setting, casting a warm, orange glow over everything. Sam watched it intently for a few minutes, thinking about Dean.

"I know what happened down there, that he was torturing souls in his place. He agonizes over it every day, Ruby. He has nightmares about it almost every night. The pain he feels about what he did, it's eating him alive inside. Saving lives is what's keeping Dean going. We can't walk away from this and I won't ask him to."

Sam looked at Reggie and Dean again. "If there is any way we can stop Lilith from opening this seal then we have to try." He returned his gaze to Ruby. "Reggie's a hunter. She knows what she's gotten herself into. And, after what happened to Frank, how can we tell her to stay out of this?"

"I see your point, Sam. I'm just worried about what could go wrong. The fact that you're not using your powers as much anymore is only going to hurt you."

Sam noticed that Reggie and Dean were heading towards them and raced to finish the conversation before either could overhear it. "I don't want to have this argument with you, Ruby. Not now. I shouldn't use them. I can't."

"Because _**Dean**_ doesn't want you to. You were getting really good at controlling them," Ruby whined. She began to pout. "All that work for nothing!"

"Let it go," he hissed at her.

Ruby pushed away from the Impala and huffed in anger. "I just think it's a really big mistake."

"Noted." He offered Reggie a small smile as she approached with Dean. "Are you ready to go?" he asked them. Dean nodded and threw Sam his car keys. Sam gaped at him in shock.

"Reggie's gonna let me drive the Fury," he beamed, eyeing the dark blue Plymouth parked a few feet from the Impala.

"Wipe the drool off your face or you'll ruin the interior," Reggie teased as she climbed in on the passenger side. Sam noticed the smile didn't quite meet her eyes, which looked sad and distant.

_This has to be really rough for her, pretending like she is. She seems to be compartmentalizing everything that's happened. She's more like Dean than I thought._ Sam climbed in behind the wheel of the Impala, a strange out of place feeling settling on him for a moment as he remembered all the time he'd spent driving the car while Dean was gone. As he slammed the door closed, Sam noticed Dean still standing in front of the car. He rolled down the window about to ask what was wrong when he heard Dean's voice.

"...not cheating on you, girl. It's just a onetime thing. I promise."

_He's talking to the Impala?_ Sam thought incredulously. He groaned and rolled his eyes at Dean.

Revving the car's engine, Sam received an angry look from his brother which only made him laugh. Sam watched his brother pat the hood before jogging over to Reggie's Plymouth and climb into the driver's seat. The car started with a roar that almost rivaled the Impala's. Sam noticed Reggie take one last look at the extinguishing pyre before he backed up and drove off, the Plymouth following closely behind them.

* * *

"Where are we going, exactly?" Reggie asked, breaking Dean out of his reverie.

"Sam found a place to squat in, an old apartment building that's under renovations. Apparently, the city has the builders hung up on permit problems. It's supposed to be better than the last place we were squatting in, before we came to your house. Sam says the electricity and heat are turned on, so that's a plus."

"Do you guys have to squat often?" Dean snorted loudly and Reggie groaned as she realized the double entendre. "You know what I meant."

Dean continued to laugh. "Yeah, but it's still funny." He shook his head, trying to get control of himself. "We still have warrants on our heads, I don't know if Bobby told you about any of that, and we're also supposed to be dead, so we try to keep a low profile. If we're in a city where we may get tripped up by using a fake credit card, or that can be a little too expensive for cash, we look for other places to crash."

"Bobby did mention something about warrants. Something about you being wanted for murder?" Reggie cocked an eyebrow at Dean, an amused expression on her face.

"It's a long story and a huge misunderstanding involving a shape shifter we hunted in St. Louis. And, of course, we can't really explain what we do in our line of work to the authorities without sounding like we're completely bonkers, so things began to pile up. By the time we 'died', we were wanted on everything from grave desecration to armed robbery."

"That's...interesting, to say the least. I haven't really had that much trouble with the authorities. A few close calls for breaking and entering, but nothing to have me wanted by the FBI." Reggie glanced out the window and Dean saw her face reflected off the glass. The look on it reminded him of the period after his dad had died. It was the same look Dean had kept hidden from Sam in the following months; it was a lost, angry, resentful look.

"I've been where you are now, you know," he stated, staring straight ahead as he felt Reggie's gaze find his face.

"What do you mean?" she asked. He could feel her watching him in the darkness.

"Bottling it up like that - the pain, the anger - it's going to eat you up inside. One day you'll explode and it won't be pretty." He looked over at Reggie and saw that she was looking out the window again.

"I'm not," she replied shortly.

"Really? 'Cause you sure fooled me," Dean snapped in frustration. Instantly, he regretted being so harsh.

"In our line of work people die, Dean. It's something that we, as hunters, become accustomed to." Reggie sighed heavily and turned to look at him again, meeting his sympathetic gaze. "I'm okay, really. I can compartmentalize better than anyone. Besides, if I can't keep my head in this I could get myself, or you and Sam, hurt or killed. And dwelling on Frank's death won't change anything."

"I won't bring it up anymore, then. Just know, that if you need anyone to talk to..."

"I can talk to you."

"Actually, I was going to say talk to Sam. He's better for the chick stuff," Dean joked. Reggie began to laugh, her face softening for the first time in hours.

She punched Dean lightly on the shoulder and shook her head at him. "That is just so wrong," she said. Reggie smiled at him and he smiled back, glad to see the grey cloud temporarily gone from her eyes.

The Impala slowed ahead of them, Sam using his turn signals so that they could follow him more easily. They turned into the large parking lot surrounding the unfinished apartment buildings, avoiding the piles of snow where the plows had pushed it as they cleared the streets. Dean pulled up next to the Impala and killed the engine. Sam was already pulling stuff from the trunk by the time Dean and Reggie finally got out of the car.

"The third building from the right," Sam stated, pointing to the closest building to where they were parked, "is the only one that is supposed to have running water and working heat and electricity. According to the county records I pulled up, all work has been postponed until March."

"Nice of them to leave everything on for us," Dean said, pulling his duffle bag from the Plymouth's trunk.

"They can't turn the utilities off or they'd have to start from scratch with the pipes they've already installed. The cold weather would cause the water to freeze and make the pipes rupture. Which means that they would also have to replace any damaged installation and drywall they've already got up as well," Reggie explained. Dean, Ruby, and Sam all gawked at her.

"Yeah, basically, but how'd you know all that?" Sam asked in awe.

"I've been known to catch one or two of those Do-It-Yourself shows," Reggie replied, shrugging. "Plus, it's handy to know this stuff, in case you might have to squat somewhere." She glanced at Dean, a smile tugging at her lips.

"Okay, well that's great to know. Now, can we get inside before we freeze to death?" Ruby whined. She stomped off towards the building without waiting for them to respond.

"Rein in your girlfriend, Sam," Dean hissed, swinging his duffle bag over his shoulder and following after her. Sam slammed the trunk, hard, and watched as Dean froze in mid-step before turning slowly to glare at Sam Dean raised an eyebrow at Sam.

"Sorry," Sam grumbled. Dean glared for a few more seconds, then nodded and started walking again.

"Isn't it weird that she's…you know…a demon?" Reggie asked as she limped along with Sam, several feet behind Dean.

"To be honest, I don't really see her as one anymore. She's too human to me. Not really like the other demons we've come across."

"But she is a demon, Sam. You can't trust them." Reggie sighed. "I'm sure Dean's said the same thing, so I'll shut up. It's not really any of my business anyway."

"Yeah, he's said the same thing, but it's okay. Your entitled to your own opinions, too. You have to trust her just as much as we do right now."

Reggie shook her head. "I can't say that I _**trust**_ her, but I can't ignore how much she helped last night. For that, I think I can overlook the demon thing. For a little while at least." Sam chuckled and held the door open as they entered the abandoned building.


	18. Chapter 18

**EIGHTEEN**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 22nd, 2009

"So how's the leg doing?" Dean asked, watching as Reggie limped from the bathroom. She winced as she lowered herself into one of the folding chairs of the card table they had stolen earlier out of the foreman's office.

"It hurts like hell."

"At least it's not broken." He handed her a towel filled with ice as she propped the leg up on another chair. She smiled at him and shrugged.

"Where's Sam and Ruby?"

"They went to get some food. Pizza, I think. Is that okay?"

"Pizza's fine." Reggie started to yawn and quickly covered her mouth, a guilty look appearing on her face. "Sorry."

"What for? After the last two nights we've had, I can't believe you're not passed out already," Dean stated. "I can't believe that I'm not knocked out, for that matter." All the talk of sleep suddenly made his eyes very heavy. Dean yawned loudly and Reggie laughed. "See what I mean?" He plopped down onto one of the remaining two empty folding chairs and picked up the map Sam had been going over before he'd left with Ruby to get dinner. Reggie began doodling on a notepad in front of her, her slender fingers making loops in the margins.

"It doesn't look like there's much to go off of here in Philly," she stated, breaking the silence that had stretched between them.

"There wasn't much before we left, either." Dean shrugged and tossed the map back onto the table. "The only major lead we had was that demon in Walter Conroy, but it was gone by the time we got to him." Sighing heavily, Dean watched Reggie as she drew odd shapes and symbols for a few minutes, trying to think of something they could use. Suddenly, it came to him. "Wait a minute," he exclaimed, picking the map up again and spreading it out across the table.

"What is it?" she asked, dropping the pen and leaning towards him, trying to see what he was looking at. The table made it too difficult for her to see, so Dean got up and pulled the map over so that they could both look at it. He leaned in, the warmth of the shower Reggie had just taken still radiating off her body and making him hyper-aware of how close they were.

"I think there might be something." Dean tapped the map, his finger pointing at a patch of green. "There was a killing in Ridley Creek Park that we never checked out. It didn't really fit with the other murders because of the location and Sam wasn't able to pull anything up in the local papers."

"If the news didn't report it then how...?"

"Cas told me about it. I figured it just hadn't hit the presses yet, but maybe it never did. We didn't check it out because it snowed and any leads were buried underneath. Maybe we _**should**_ go."

Reggie looked up at him, her eyes a sharp emerald against the pale peach of her skin, and nodded her head. "Where's Sam's laptop? We can see if there's been anything about the killing now." Dean started scanning the room, looking for the familiar brown leather bag Sam kept his computer in. He spotted it propped between one of his green duffle bags and Reggie's gray one. They had just finished setting it up when Sam and Ruby came through the front door.

"What's going on?" Sam asked as he spotted his computer on the table.

"We're looking up that Ridley Creek Park thing Castiel told us about to see if the media ever picked it up," Dean explained. Sam placed the pizza boxes on the counter in the kitchen and hurried over to them. The two brothers leaned over Reggie's shoulders, peering at the screen as she scanned through several local newspaper websites.

A few minutes passed before Ruby couldn't take the quiet any longer. "Well?"

"Reggie's been to five different sites and there's nothing," Sam answered. "No mention of the killing. No body. Nothing." Sam stood up and looked at Dean. "Are you sure Cas told you it happened in Ridley Creek Park?"

Dean glared at him. "Yeah, I'm sure."

"Okay, so maybe there are no media reports because the police haven't found out about it yet," Reggie offered. "I think you might be right, Dean. I think there may be more to that murder than it being another part of the Fool's Ritual."

Dean grinned as he stood up. "We'll check it out first thing tomorrow morning," he stated. "Now, hand over that pizza 'cause I'm starving." Sam rolled his eyes at his brother and laughed when he heard Reggie's stomach rumble in agreement. She smiled at him and closed his laptop.

"I hope you don't mind, but we got the works," Sam said as he handed a plate to Reggie.

"That's fine. I'm not picky."

They all dug in, their chewing the only sounds as they ate. They had consumed most of both pizzas when Ruby jumped down from her perch on the kitchen counter and tossed her plate onto the table.

"You want another piece?" Sam asked.

She shook her head. "No, I'm good. I'm going to head out."

"What? Why?"

"There's something I want to check out. I'll be back tomorrow." She slipped into her jacket and headed for the front door without another word. Sam stared after her as she slipped out of the apartment.

"Well, I don't know about you two, but I'm beat. I think I'm going to hit the hay," Dean said as he stretched and got to his feet.

"I'm going to head to bed, too," Reggie yawned. She winced as she tried to put weight on her injured leg. Sam began to get up to help her, but Dean beat him to it, pulling Reggie's arm over his shoulders.

"I gotcha, gimpy," he teased. She smiled at him and playfully smacked him on the chest as Dean helped her limp down the hallway towards the bedrooms.

Sam sat back down at the table, shredding a piece of half-eaten pizza crust on his plate as he listened to the wind pound against the windows. _Where are you going, Ruby?_ he thought. He sighed and got up from his chair, wandering over to the windows. Sam watched as the wind swirled snow around the two cars parked below, shaking through the barren trees. Thoughts raced through his head, although none of them seemed to form an explanation for the uneasy feeling he had. A few minutes later, Sam turned and headed to the bathroom, finally ready to go to bed.

* * *

Reggie's eyes shot open and she bolted upright in bed, rubbing her eyes fiercely. The image of Frank's dead body still lingered even as the details of the dream began to fade. She shuddered and pulled the dark brown Army blanket from the end of her makeshift bed back up over her bare legs. Her hair clung to her cheeks and she realized she had been crying in her sleep.

Reggie used the neck of the old t-shirt she was wearing to wipe the moisture from her face, running her fingers through her tangled hair. She took a deep breath and plopped back against the duffle bag filled with clothes she was using as a pillow. Reggie could smell the familiar scent of her fabric softener emanating off the clothes and it helped her relax a little more. Just as she was dozing off again a sudden noise caught her attention. She raised her head from the makeshift pillow and listened, waiting to hear the noise again.

"No! No, don't!" she heard someone cry out.

Reggie scrambled up, yanking on a pair of jeans, and grabbed her .40 caliber Smith and Wesson from under her pillow. She rushed from the room she'd been sleeping in and stopped in the hallway, trying to identify where the voice was coming from. Reggie only had to wait a few seconds when the voice cried out again.

"Please! No!" This time, she recognized the voice immediately and made her way into the bedroom adjacent from hers. Dean thrashed and flailed around on the floor, the blanket he had been covered with tangled around his waist and legs. She knelt down beside him and reached out, trying to grab his arms as he swung them about, pushing at an invisible assailant.

"Dean!" Reggie called gently, finally getting a grasp on one of his arms and holding it at his side. "Dean, wake up! You're having a nightmare!" She shook him harder and his eyes flew open, a look of anger on his face.

"Hey! You were having one..." she began before the words were choked off. Dean had grabbed her around the throat with his free hand and began to squeeze. She gasped for air, dropping her gun, and her hold on his other arm, as she tried to pull his hand away. He glared at her, hate seething from his eyes and Reggie started to panic. "Sam..." she choked out, her voice barely above a whisper. "Sam..."

"I'm going to kill you," Dean growled.

Bright spots of light flashed in Reggie's eyes and her head swam, the room tilting as she began to lose consciousness. Dean's grip got tighter and she frantically beat at his arms, his chest, trying to break him out of his daze. She reached for her gun, but her fingers just lightly brushed over the mother of pearl handle, unable to grasp it.

As the room darkened, she struggled to get free. She lashed out with her fist, connecting with Dean's jaw with her last bit of strength. The punch worked. His eyes cleared and he yanked his hands off her throat, agony and shock registering on his face. Reggie pulled in ragged breaths, shoving herself out of Dean's reach, falling backward into another duffle bag, filled with guns from the sound it made as she hit it. Stars burst around her and she blinked, trying to clear her vision.

"Reggie? Oh god!" Dean cried. "I'm so sorry, I didn't..." Dean frantically began to untangled himself from his blanket. He reached out to her, but she pushed back from him, continuing to gasp for air. Dean handed her a bottle of water, carefully giving her the space she wanted and Reggie grimaced as she took a large gulp. He waited while her breathing relaxed and watched as she finished off the water. "I..."

"It's - okay," she rasped, her throat still raw. She shook her head when he offered her another bottle of water. "I'm good." She smiled weakly at Dean. "That must have been one hell…of a nightmare you were having," she choked out. Dean blanched at her comment. "I won't ask you what it was about even though I think I _**might **_be entitled to know. Seeing as it almost cost me my life."

"My time in hell," Dean said barely above a whisper. "The dream was about my time in hell." He took a deep breath and sat down on the floor in front of her. She didn't jerk away from him, but instead scooted forward, obviously trying to ease the pain in his eyes by showing that she wasn't afraid he was going to attack her again.

"I know what you went through in hell, Dean."

Dean blinked at her, stunned. "How?"

"Do I have to keep reminding you that I'm a hunter? I know what happens to a soul in hell because I have to know. It's part of the job to know everything there is about demons, including what makes them that way."

"Books only get so much of it accurate, you know," he snapped.

"I know. Why do you think I've never asked you to tell me what it was like?" Reggie replied. "Because I know that it was unimaginable and there is no way that I would want to go through the memory of my time in the pit if the situation were reversed." She rubbed at the spot where Dean had grabbed her, a dark bruise in the shape of Dean's hand already forming. He looked away from her, gazing out the dark window.

"You have no idea what I went through; being tortured for almost thirty years down there, subjected to every horrible thing you can imagine and then even some you can't. But that isn't what makes a demon what it is, not completely. The torture is only part of it." He took a deep breath and faced Reggie again.

She had dropped her hands from her neck and was staring at him with a pained expression. "You don't need to tell me this, Dean. I know what happened a moment ago was just an accident. It's alright." She reached out and placed a hand gently on his arm.

Dean stared at her hand for a moment, trying to push back against the lump in his throat. He pulled his arm away from her and stood up. "I think you need to hear this. I think you need to know who you've gotten yourself mixed up with." He took a deep breath and exhaled before continuing.

"A person can only take so much before they break, before they move off the line, so to speak. For me it was three decades. Three decades I took whatever pain and punishment, whatever torture and agony, they could dish at me. But even the most strong willed souls can't last forever. I didn't know some angel was going to pull me from the pit - save me from perdition - so I did what I needed to survive. I got off the line and started torturing souls in my place."

Dean turned to face Reggie again, watching the words sink in, waiting for her to show the disgust for him he knew he deserved. Reggie continued to look at Dean with nothing but sadness, no trace of hatred or repulsion apparent in her green eyes. He rushed to finish before those feelings finally showed on her soft features.

"I tortured soul after soul until I lost count. Until I could no longer see the faces of the people they put in front of me. I started to become the vile, disgusting things that I've hunted my entire life, that destroyed my entire family. Like the damn demons that killed Frank." This declaration finally got a reaction out of Reggie, just not the one Dean was expecting. She shot up, crossing the distance between them in a heartbeat despite her injured leg, anger radiating from her.

"You are _**nothing**_ like the bastards that killed Frank or your parents, Dean! I don't ever want to hear you say that again! For every soul you tortured in hell, you've saved just as many, if not more, here on Earth. If you succeed in stopping Lilith from raising Lucifer, you will save six _**billion**_ souls! Don't you realize that?" She grabbed his shoulders and shook him roughly. "What you did in the pit and what you endured for as long as you did? I guarantee you there isn't another soul on earth that could have done that. Three decades in hell, Dean, is a very long time and you shouldn't punish yourself because you didn't last longer!"

Dean gaped at her, watching as the anger colored her cheeks a deep red, trying to think of something to say. He was completely overwhelmed by her argument against his humanity. They stared at each other for what seemed like hours, both of them breathing heavily, before Dean grabbed the back of Reggie's head, grasping her hair tightly in his fingers, and kissed her. She immediately responded, pulling herself tighter against him, twining her fingers in his short hair. She pulled his shirt, still damp with the sweat from his nightmare, off his stomach. He stepped back, helping her by yanking it over his head, and tossed it aside.

He wrapped his arms around her slender waist, lifting her feet off the floor as he hugged her tighter to his chest. She placed her hands gently against his shoulders and started to push herself away from him, her lips still on his. He let go and stepped back, finally breaking their kiss. They were both panting with smiles on their faces.

"That was..." Dean began.

"Interesting?" Reggie finished. He chuckled and nodded, taking her hand and pulling her close to him. He hugged her and buried his face in her hair, breathing in the scents emanating off her. Reggie's fingers lightly traced Castiel's handprint, which had been burned onto his skin when the angel raised him from hell. The touch sent goose bumps over Dean's skin and he shivered involuntarily. Reggie pulled her head back and looked up at him, her eyes bright in the dark room. Just as she opened her mouth to speak there was a loud crash from the direction of the living room.

Reggie and Dean rushed from the room and down the narrow hallway. Dean grabbed Reggie's wrist just as they reached the end and pulled her behind him, taking the Smith and Wesson handgun she offered and cocking it. He peered around the edge of the wall and looked for Sam. Dean spotted the pile of stuff his brother had been sleeping on, but no Sam.

"Sammy?" he called, his voice barely above a whisper. He felt Reggie's hand on his bare shoulder as she leaned around him, trying to see into the room, too. There was another crash, this time from the kitchen and both of them immediately moved around the wall and into the open living room area. Dean's stomach dropped as he took in the sight before him.

Sam was being slammed against the cabinets by a heavy-set black man dressed in a black suit. Dean pointed the gun at the man's back, but was too afraid of hitting Sam to fire. "Let him go," Dean yelled. The man glanced back at Dean with onyx eyes, a look of deranged glee on his face as he registered the two hunters behind him.

"I'll be with you in a minute, Dean," he said as he bashed Sam's slack head against the cabinets again.

Dean growled and threw himself at the man. All three of them hit the refrigerator as they fell, sending it sliding back into the wall with a bang. Dean wrestled the demon off of Sam and shoved him across the floor, pointing the gun as he scrambled up.

A movement behind the man caught Dean's eye just as he was about to fire and he saw, with horror, that Reggie was being dragged by her hair through the living room by a small blonde woman. He fired into the man's chest, a cloud of salt billowing as it impacted and the man's head rocked back in a howl of pain. Behind him, Sam moaned as he came to.

"You alright?" Dean yelled, getting to his feet.

"I…I think so, yeah." Sam groaned as he tried to get up.

Reggie screamed and both men looked up to see the demon waving a large bowie knife at her. Blood ran down from a large cut across Reggie's left bicep. Reggie dodged another swipe at her and stumbled backward, losing her balance because of her injured leg. She knocked over the card table and fell into one of the folding chairs, which tipped backwards from her momentum.

Dean helped Sam to his feet before jumping over the demon as he started to come to, running to Reggie's aid. Sam was already using his powers to expel the demon from its host, wincing slightly from the effort because of the beating he'd just taken. Dean was only a foot away from Reggie and the blonde when she swung with the knife again. Reggie tried to roll out of the way, but the knife caught her across the back, opening a long gash just below her shoulder blades.

Reggie screamed again and the woman laughed, her voice high and shrill. Dean hit the woman like a linebacker, pining her arms at her sides with his own. She tried to jerk the knife, trying to use it on him, and he twisted her wrist, causing her to cry out in pain. The demon dropped the knife as the bones in her host's wrist broke. She pushed herself backward, making them fall to the floor with a crash, and twisted out of Dean's grasp. He was trying to scramble up when she sent him flying into the wall, pinning him to it.

"I have no business with you Winchesters," the demon growled. She turned to Reggie and flung her into the windows. They cracked under the impact, but did not break. The force knocked the wind out of Reggie with a whoosh and the commotion broke Sam's concentration. The demon he'd had pinned took advantage of the reprieve, disappearing in the blink of an eye.

Sam took a step toward the blonde and she attempted to send him flying back into the kitchen, shock registering on her face when she saw her powers didn't work. The blonde looked around at the three hunters, realizing that she was in much bigger trouble than she would like, and disappeared just like the first one. A few seconds passed before Dean was released from the wall and he slumped to the floor.

"Sammy, you okay?" Dean called, rubbing his shoulder which was throbbing from the tackle. He could see Sam standing in the kitchen, rubbing his head where the demon had slammed it against the wood cabinets.

"Yeah, I'm good." They heard a moan from the living room and Reggie pulled herself into a sitting position. Sam beat Dean to her side, gently helping her into a chair. "Let me take a look at you." Reggie hissed as he tried to lift the sleeve of her shirt over the long gash on her arm. The wound was deep and still pumping blood.

Reggie shifted in the chair so that Sam could look at the wound on her back, which looked just as bad as the first. Sam glanced at Dean and grimaced. "I think we need to get you to a hospital," Sam stated, taking off his shirt and placing it against Reggie's bleeding arm.

Dean went back to his bedroom, pulled on his t-shirt, and hurriedly yanked on his boots. Grabbing his coat and the Impala's keys, Dean headed into Reggie's room. He started grabbing clothes, not really looking at what he was shoving into her duffle bag, and picked up her boots, before hurrying back out into the living room.

Sam had torn and wrapped a piece of his shirt as a tourniquet, tying off the gash on her arm to help slow the blood loss. Reggie's face was pale and she looked like she was about to pass out. As Dean got closer, he saw that she was shivering.

"Let's go," he said. Sam scooped Reggie up into his arms, expecting her to jerk from the pain of the movement, but she hardly seemed to acknowledged it. Sam glanced at Dean again, worry etched across his face. They rushed from the building and stumbled across the frozen ground, slipping in the snow as they made their way to the Impala.

Sam lowered Reggie onto the back seat and climbed in on the passenger side, barely getting the door closed as Dean peeled out of the parking lot. Dean already knew where the hospital was, something their father had ingrained in them from an early age.

_"It helps to know where emergency medical help is for when you may not be able to fix it up yourself,"_ John's voice echoed in their heads. Dean sped around a corner, just missing a large Toyota truck that blasted it's horn at them as the driver was forced to slam on his brakes.

"We gotta hurry, Dean. I couldn't get the bleeding to stop. I think the cut on her arm severed the artery," Sam hissed. Dean pressed harder on the gas pedal and the Impala's engine growled in response. He sped into the open ambulance bay and jammed the car into park. Sam was already scrambling out of the passenger side and easing Reggie into his arms.

"We need a doctor! NOW!" Dean yelled as they raced into the emergency room.


	19. Chapter 19

**NINETEEN**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 22nd, 2009

Sam watched Dean pace across the waiting room, his brother's face a mask of rage and concern. "Could you maybe stop that? You're making me dizzy."

Dean stopped, turned, and glared at Sam. "It helps me think, so...no!" He went back to pacing, jamming his hands into the pockets of his jacket. Sam sighed and stood up, stretching his long legs.

"I'm going to go get some coffee. You want some?" Dean nodded at him and Sam walked out into the hospital's hallway, the fluorescent lights glaringly bright to his tired eyes. His head still throbbed from the beating it had taken during the fight with the demon.

It seemed ages ago that the whole ordeal had happened, but, as Sam glanced at his watch, it had only been just over two hours since the ambush. He strolled down the hallway, following the arrows that pointed to the hospital's cafeteria, glancing into the occasional room.

Sam purchased two coffees and began to sip his without adding the usual massive amounts of cream and sugar he normally would have. The warm liquid burned his throat as it slid down, but Sam hardly registered the feeling, his entire body numb. He had just rounded the corner on his way back to the waiting room when he saw Dean standing with a doctor. Sam picked up his pace, arriving just as the doctor placed his hand on Dean's shoulder.

"...should make a full recovery," the doctor was saying. "Son, you know I have to ask this. How did she come by those wounds?"

Dean glanced at Sam, needing Sam's quick wit to answer the man. "We were walking home and this group of guys attacked us," Sam answered.

"Have you reported this to the police?"

"Not yet. We were too worried about her injuries," Sam continued the lie. The doctor looked both men over, obviously suspicious of their answer.

"Ms. Wilson is very lucky to be alive. I was just telling your friend here that the cut she sustained to her arm severed one of the major arteries. If you hadn't gotten her here when you did, there is no doubt in my mind that Nancy would have bled out. Which one of you thought to tie off the wound?"

"I did," Sam answered.

"That was quick thinking, son," the doctor said, giving Sam a smile. "You undoubtedly saved her life." He clapped Sam on the shoulder.

"When can we see her?" Dean asked abruptly.

"Well, she's resting now, but I don't see why you can't go visit her in an hour or so. You gentleman should talk with the police during that time," the doctor instructed, continuing to eye Sam and Dean suspiciously. The doctor sighed and nodded his head. "Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few more patients to attend to." He shook both Sam and Dean's hands before strolling off down the hallway.

"That's good news," Sam stated, handing Dean a coffee cup. Dean grunted and took a sip, grimacing at the terrible taste.

"God, yuck! This crap tastes like monkey butt," Dean spat, chucking the cup into a trash can. He wiped his lips with the back of his hand and leaned against the wall. He stared at Sam, making him feel very uncomfortable.

"What ?" Sam asked.

Dean blinked and shrugged. "Nothing."

"That look wasn't 'nothing', Dean. What is it?"

"You sure haven't been hesitating with using those freaky powers of yours lately. Two demons in less than two days?" Dean shook his head.

"If I remember correctly, one of those demons was choking you to death when I stopped him," Sam snapped. He had been waiting for Dean to bring up his abilities, to chastise him about using them again. "Look, let's not do this here, alright? Let's just go find Reggie's room and check on her." Sam started towards the nurse's station, but Dean grabbed his arm.

"I think we should just leave Reggie here and find those damn demons who ambushed us tonight. By sticking around here, we're just putting her in more danger."

"I'm not so sure, Dean. Didn't you hear the demon when you tried to stop her? She said she had no business with us."

"So what's your point?" Dean grunted.

"I don't think that demon was there for us."

"Are you trying to say that she was there _**because**_ of Reggie?"

"Yeah, I think she was," Sam said, nodding.

"That doesn't make any sense. The demons want us, they want to stop us. Why would they come after Reggie?"

"I don't know. Maybe because she's a hunter? They've never needed any more than that to kill one before. Why would that change now?"

Dean stared off down the hallway, lost in thought. "Maybe," he mumbled a few moments later. Sam was about to respond when something caught his eye through the waiting room window. A woman stood watching them, her hands balled together anxiously.

"Son of a bitch!" Sam yelled, recognizing the blonde demon from earlier. He pointed at her as Dean turned to look. They both raced back into the room and the woman held her hands up as they pulled out their guns.

"Whoa, whoa! I'm not here to fight with you," she cried, backing up until she hit the wall behind her.

"Really? 'Cause you sure fooled us earlier!" Dean snapped.

"I'm only going on orders. Just like you."

"Orders? Whose orders?" Sam asked, lowering his gun a little.

"You know who."

"Lilith," Dean growled and cocked his gun. The demon waved her hands in the air in front of her, trying to calm the situation. Sam reached out his hand and placed it on top Dean's gun. "What the hell are you doing?" Dean hissed, glaring incredulously at Sam.

"Let's hear what she has to say."

"Thank you," the woman said.

"Then we can send her evil ass back to the bowels from which she slithered," Sam continued, glaring at the woman so that she could see he meant it. She gulped and nodded at them.

"Let's hear it then," Dean snapped.

She took a deep breath and lowered her hands, keeping a wary eye on the two brothers. "Lilith says that you have to leave Philadelphia. You have to leave and you have to do it now."

Dean snorted and shook his head. "I don't freakin' think so."

"If you leave, Lilith won't kill her." Dean and Sam looked at each other, confused.

"Kill her? Her who?" Dean asked, taking a step forward.

"If you leave, she'll let her go, unharmed," the demon said.

"Did you not hear me? Her who?" Dean snapped. Sam grabbed his shoulder and he turned to look at him. Sam's face had gone completely white. "What is it?"

"It's Ruby, Dean. They have Ruby." Sam turned to get some kind of confirmation from the demon but found that she was already gone.

"Dammit!" Dean yelled.

"What are we going to do, Dean?" Sam asked.

"We're going to kill these bastards, that's what."

"They have Ruby. We can't let them kill her."

"She knew what the score was, Sammy." Dean sighed and placed a hand on Sam's shoulder. "Look, I know you two have this weird thing between you that makes you care about her. I may not like it, or get it, but I see it. Ruby chose her side in this fight and with that choice she put her head on the chopping block, just like us. If we can help get her free, we'll try, but we can't leave. Not now. Not with Lilith trying to open another seal."

Sam nodded, resigned. "Let's go check on Reggie," he said. Dean followed him out into the hallway and they made their way down to the nurse's station. A tall, pretty brunette beamed up at them as they approached.

"What can I help you with, gentleman?"

"What room is Nancy Wilson in?" Sam asked as Dean leaned on the counter, grinning back at the young woman.

"You have an amazing smile, you know that," Dean stated, flirting with the nurse.

"You know, my husband tells me that all the time," she quipped back. She laughed as Dean's smile faltered and he stood up. She tapped a few keys on her keyboard as Sam stood chuckling at Dean. "Ms. Wilson is in room 313. It's just around this corner here, all the way at the end of the hall."

"Thank you," Sam said and followed Dean, who hurried away from the desk. "I can't believe you didn't notice the huge rock weighing down her hand," Sam said once they were out of earshot.

"Well, I didn't!," Dean cried. "How was I supposed to know she was married. I mean, you saw the way she was smiling at me."

"She was being pleasant, Dean. It's kind of her job to act like that."

"Yeah, well, they shouldn't. It sends the wrong signals," Dean grumbled. Sam chuckled at him as he opened the door to Reggie's hospital room. The curtain was pulled around the bed closest to the window and the other was unoccupied. Unsure of whether Reggie was asleep or not, they approached the bed quietly and gently pulled back the end of the curtain.

"What the...?" Dean exclaimed. The bed was empty, the blankets scrunched to the bottom.

Sam went over to the bathroom door and knocked, dread already rising in his stomach. "Reggie?" he called hesitantly. He tried the handle and found that it was unlocked. Sam pushed it open, the door slowly swinging inward with a low creak. The light was off, the room empty. He turned back to Dean and was shocked to find that his brother was gone. "Dean?"

Sam walked out into the hallway and spotted Dean talking to a nurse he had stopped, although talking wasn't really the best description. Sam could hear Dean's voice clearly as it carried all the way down the hall. "What do you mean you don't know where she could be? What kind of hospital is this? How often do you lose patients?" he yelled at her.

"Sir, please stop shouting at me. If you give me a minute, I'll see if I can get you some more information," the nurse, a short heavy-set woman with wiry, light brown hair, said. She tried to walk past Dean but he stepped in front of her again, blocking her path.

"Easy, Dean," Sam interceded, grabbing Dean's shoulder. The nurse looked at him appreciatively and strode off. Sam hoped she was heading to the nurse's station and not calling security.

"What the hell kind of hospital is this?" Dean yelled after her.

"Dean, relax," Sam hissed soothingly.

Dean clenched his fists at his side and turned on Sam. "Where the hell did she go, Sam? A person doesn't just walk out of their room after losing the amount of blood Reggie lost." Anger flooded his face.

"I don't know, but yelling at that poor woman isn't going to get you any answers," Sam stated. "Now take a deep breath and calm down." Dean deliberately took a deep breath and nodded his head as he exhaled. "Stay here while I go see if I can get some more information. They probably just took her to run some tests." Sam headed off towards the nurse's station, hoping he was right.

* * *

"What do you mean you don't know where she is?" Sam cried. "How do you lose a patient who had to have a transfusion?"

"As I said sir, the system doesn't show that any tests were ordered or that there is any reason for Ms. Wilson to be out of her room. There's nothing currently showing on her chart. If you would give me a minute, I'll call her doctor and ask him directly," the wiry-haired nurse snapped. She picked up the phone before Sam could respond, turning her back on him. Sam took a deep breath and exhaled, trying to remain calm despite the nagging worry in the pit of his stomach. Dean stood at the end of the hallway, pacing back and forth, watching Sam.

It only took the woman a few minutes to get the doctor on the phone and Sam strained his hearing, trying to listen in. He leaned on the counter and she pulled away, cupping her hand over the mouthpiece. Finally, she turned back to Sam as she hung up the phone. "The doctor is on his way up," she stated.

"What does that mean?"

"Dr. Wanek will be here in a minute and you can talk to him then." The nurse got up from the desk, gathering several charts, and strode off in the opposite direction.

Sam looked down the hall at Dean, who threw his hands into the air and yelled, "So?" Sam gave an exaggerated shrug and started pacing himself. He heard Dean growl and his brother's footsteps as he approached. "What's going on, Sam?"

"I don't know. The nurse said Reggie's doctor is on his way up. Then she just scurried off that way," Sam snapped, pointing after the woman. Both men turned as they heard the sound of approaching footsteps and saw Dr. Wanek as he made his way towards them. The man looked puzzled, which only increased Sam's feeling of dread.

"Gentleman," Dr. Wanek greeted them.

"What the hell happened to our friend, Doc?" Dean snapped.

Dr. Wanek shook his head and pulled a chart from the desk behind them. "I'm not really sure. I didn't order any tests and the nurses state Ms. Wilson was in her room the last time they went in to check her stats."

"People don't just disappear. Especially not in hospitals," Dean snapped, yanking the chart from the doctor's hands and slamming it on the counter.

"I can't explain what's going on here," Dr. Wanek replied, clearly flustered at Dean's anger. "I notified security immediately and they are searching the premises as we speak. We're doing everything we possibly can to find her." Dean grunted and Sam grabbed his arm, pulling him away from the desk and the doctor before Dean did something stupid. Sam dragged his brother down the hallway and back into Reggie's empty room.

"You need to calm down, Dean, before they call the police."

Dean yanked his arm out Sam's grasp and walked to the window. He slammed his hands against the glass. "Where the hell is Reggie?" Suddenly, he gasped and spun around. "You don't think…?"

"That Lilith has her?" Sam finished solemnly. Dean nodded, his face going white as he slumped against the window for support. "I don't want to believe it, but yeah, I think she does." Sam sat down on the edge of the empty bed and closed his eyes. "What do we do now?" When there was no response, Sam's eyes flew open. His brother stood with his head in his hands. "Dean?"

"I don't know, Sammy. I don't know," he whispered.


	20. Chapter 20

**TWENTY**

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 22nd, 2009

**"I really hope you mean as much to Dean and Sam Winchester as my duty means to me," Lilith cooed as she stroked Reggie's face. She got up from the rusty bed the hunter was tied to and skipped from the room. **

**Reggie screamed through the gag in her mouth what sounded like a string of profanities as Deumos entered. The blonde bartender stood at the base of the bed and shook her head. "You shouldn't insult her like that. The fact that you're still alive is a miracle." Reggie kicked her bound legs at her and screamed some more. "No one can hear you. At least no one who will help you." Deumos strode from the room and slammed the door closed behind her. **

**"Why don't you just kill her?" Verin was asking as Deumos entered the bar. **

**"Because I want them gone from this city. And the only way I'm going to get what I want is to give them something they want in return," Lilith replied in a sing song voice. "They're going to want her and now I have her." She climbed up onto a bar stool and began tapping on the counter. "I want one of those yummy strawberry milkshakes, Deumos." The demon hurried behind the bar and immediately got to work. **

**Verin was shaking his head at Lilith. "Since when do we bargain with these monkeys?" **

**"You're trying my patience, Verin," Lilith warned. **

**"I just don't understand why we can't just bluff the whole thing?" **

**Lilith turned and glared at the dark-skinned demon, her gaze a frightening opaque. "I don't care if you understand. You're going to follow my orders, Verin, and my orders are that Reggie remain alive. If you don't like that, just say so and I will remedy the situation." **

**Verin gulped and took a step back. "Whatever you wish, Lilith." She nodded and smiled at Deumos as she placed a glass in front of her, filled to the top with pink liquid. **

**"Yum," Lilith said as she began to suck from her straw. **

* * *

Dean threw a duffle bag filled with guns into the trunk of the Impala and spun around. "I don't care, Cas. They have Reggie and the only way they _**aren't **_going to kill her is if we leave town," Dean yelled at the angel. Castiel stood stoically as he watched Dean jam another duffle bag into the trunk. "I won't let them kill her because of us."

"You're letting your feelings for her cloud your judgment," Castiel growled. "If you leave, there will be no one to stop Lilith from opening another seal. Every seal is important, Dean. You need to remain steadfast in your duty to the rest of humanity. You need to stay here and stop Lilith."

"You do it then! You stay and fight Lilith for this seal. Sam and me, we're leaving town." Dean slammed the trunk closed and crunched through the snow back to the apartment building. He couldn't hear the angel following behind him, but he could feel him there.

Sam met them on the stairs. "The place is clear. I just have to put the rest of Reggie's stuff in the Plymouth and we're good to go."

"Thanks, Sammy." Dean turned and almost ran into Castiel . "Get out of my way, Cas."

"You're making a huge mistake, Dean. I pulled you from hell because The Lord commanded it. So that you could stop Lilith from raising Lucifer. If you leave, she is one step closer to completing that task."

Dean pushed past the angel and Sam followed. "I don't care!"

"You should care. When Lucifer comes to Earth, all the innocent souls will burn. Burn just like you did in hell," Castiel snapped. Sam groaned and turned to look at the angel, but he was gone.

"Let's hurry it up, Sam," Dean said, already climbing behind the wheel of the Impala. Sam hurried over to Reggie's Plymouth and dropped her bags into the trunk. He glanced at Dean and then back at the car.

"Are we leaving Reggie's car here?" he called. Dean nodded and Sam headed to the passenger side of the Impala, climbing in just as Dean put it in reverse.

"We have to leave it here. For now, anyway," Dean explained as he peeled out of the parking lot, the tires screeching as they spun on a patch of ice. They sat in silence as Dean drove through the city. Sam stared out the window, watching as the buildings sped by outside.

"Sorry," Dean finally said.

"For what?" Sam asked, turning to look at his brother.

"When we thought it was Ruby, I was all for leaving her to the wolves." Dean glanced at Sam and then back at the road again.

"Dean, don't. I care about Reggie, too." Dean snorted and shook his head. "If we can save her life by leaving, then that's what we have to do," Sam continued, ignoring Dean's reaction. "There's still plenty of time to stop Lilith from bringing Lucifer out of hell. Once Reggie's safe, we may still be able to stop her from opening _**this**_ seal."

"You two are a bunch of idiots, you know that," a voice snapped from the backseat. Dean jerked the wheel and the tires squealed as he hit the brakes, bumping onto the shoulder of the road.

Sam spun in his seat. "Ruby? Where the hell have you been?"

"I've been out getting information, following up on possible leads." Ruby snapped. "So I hear you've got a bit of a hostage situation going on. How the hell did you not see that one coming?"

"You're not helping, Ruby," Sam said, glancing at Dean. "These leads you were following? Can they help us?"

"They might. If you want to keep your new "friend's" pretty little head on her shoulders and still try and stop Lilith from opening the seal in Ridley Creek State Park."

"Then spill it, you stupid wench," Dean growled.

"Temper, temper," Ruby chided. "You might want to be a little nicer to me, Dean. Since I have the information you need to save Reggie without getting both your asses vaporized." Ruby sat back against the seat, a smug, satisfied expression on her face.

"Alright, fine. I'll be nice. Just tell us what you know," Dean relented.

"They're holding her at a dive bar in South Philly and it's crawling with demons."

"So how are we supposed to get inside?" Sam asked, irritation edging his voice.

Ruby glared at him, hearing his tone. "I don't know, Sam, but perhaps that's something you two geniuses can figure out for yourselves. You should be happy I got any info at all."

"I am thankful, Ruby, but you have to realize the current circumstances. If Lilith finds out we're not leaving town…" Sam looked at Dean for confirmation that they were indeed going to stay. Dean nodded at him and Sam turned back to Ruby. "We'll only have a small window of opportunity to get Reggie out of there alive. That's not exactly going to be easy."

"No, it won't, but at least it's more than running away with your tails between your legs."

"She has a point," Dean said. Both Ruby and Sam gaped at him. "What?" Dean asked.

"Since when do you agree with me on anything?" Ruby asked incredulously.

Dean shrugged. "Never, but I guess, today, pigs can fly."

* * *

Philadelphia, Pennsylvania

January 23rd, 2009

"Are you sure this is where they have her?" Dean asked again. It had been almost an hour since Ruby had directed them to the small dive bar. It looked run down and the sign bearing the bar's name, Paulie's Tavern, hung crookedly above the door. They'd parked the Impala several streets back and were standing in the shadows in an alley across the street.

"I'm as sure as I was the last five thousand times you asked me," Ruby snapped.

Dean rolled his shoulders and cocked his gun. "It doesn't look so crowded from here."

"Unless you've developed x-ray vision or some other kind of ability that allows you to see through walls, how can you be sure?" Ruby shifted back into the darkness as a tall, gangly man dressed in coveralls stepped out of the bar's door and onto the street, lighting a cigarette.

"Okay, so what do we do? How are we going to get inside?" Sam asked, trying to break the tension that crackled through all of them.

"You said there was a back room to this place. That's got to be where they're holding Reggie," Dean started.

"_**If**_ she's even still alive," Ruby muttered. Sam glared at her and she rolled her eyes.

"I say we head around back and find a way in on that side. Once we get in and get Reggie, then we just blast our way back out," Dean continued, clearly ignoring Ruby.

"Oh, that sounds brilliant," Ruby stated, throwing her hands in the air in frustration.

"You know, we don't really need your help, Ruby, so if you're so concerned about your own ass then maybe you should just sit this one out," Dean growled.

"I just don't think we should go in half-assed or we're all bound to end up dead," Ruby snapped back at Dean.

"I'm open to suggestions," Dean replied.

"We wait. Scout out the place a little more," Ruby retorted.

"Right! That's a brilliant idea! Much better than mine," Dean spat.

Sam couldn't take it anymore. "Enough," he snapped. "I think Dean's right. We should check out the back exit and see if there's a way in on that side." Dean grinned, but Sam continued. "But Ruby's right, too, Dean. We can't just go in guns blazing or we'll all get killed. We need to wait a little longer and see what we're up against."

"Alright, fine," Dean grumbled, tucking his gun into an inside pocket of his jacket. "I'm going to work my way around to the rear and check out the building from that end."

"Don't do anything stupid, Dean," Ruby growled as they watched him slip out onto the street and disappear behind a parked car. "He isn't going to do anything stupid, right?" she asked, turning to Sam.

Sam sighed. "I sure hope not."

* * *

Reggie struggled against her bindings, twisting and turning until she felt the stitches in her arm and back pull. Wincing, she stopped, waiting for the stinging to subside. She tilted her arm, noting that the bandages wrapped around her bicep were still a pristine white. _Well, I haven't busted a stitch yet,_ Reggie thought bitterly. She glanced up as the door to the room she was in opened. A small, blonde girl skipped into the room, a grin stretched across her small pink lips.

**"Hello, Reggie," Lilith purred as she came to a stop next to Reggie. "How are you doing? I hope you don't mind all this, but I needed your help with something."**

"Screw you," Reggie yelled through her gag. Lilith shook her head and made a tsk-tsk sound.

**"Oh, Reggie. There's no need for you to be hostile," Lilith scolded. She reached up and stroked Reggie face with her small hand. "You are quite an exquisite creature. So pretty." Lilith hopped onto the bed, sitting just below Reggie's bound legs. "I really hope Dean and Sam don't disappoint me. It'll be a shame to have to waste such a precious body."**

Reggie rolled her eyes, jerking away from the demon's touch, and tried to talk through the gag. Lilith grinned again and reached up, yanking it from Reggie's mouth. "Dean and Sam aren't going to leave, Lilith. They're going to stop you from opening the seal here and send your creepy ass back to hell," Reggie spat.

**"I sure hope, for your sake, that you're wrong, Reggie," Lilith stated, scooting off the bed. She stared at Reggie, as if contemplating something. Finally, she nodded and beamed up at Reggie. "I think you've underestimated the power you've developed over Dean. He likes you a lot. I think, to guarantee your safety, Dean will do as I ask and leave."**

Reggie made an attempt to respond when the little girl reached up and tucked the gag back into her mouth, silencing Reggie, humming as she did. There was a loud crash from outside the room, and both hunter and demon turned towards the door, listening intently. There were several more loud bangs and the sound of gunfire. Reggie watched in shock as Lilith froze at the door, her host's pink cheeks paling, looking nervous and sick. Lilith turned, with a shocked look on her face, and glared at Reggie for a moment before disappearing through the doorway, leaving Reggie alone once again.

* * *

Ruby and Sam waited in silence, watching the entrance, waiting for any indication of what was inside. About a half an hour later, Sam's cell phone began to buzz in his pocket. He pulled it out and glanced at the caller I.D before answering. "Hey Dean."

"So there's only one way in back here and it looks to be bolted shut with a lock even Dad wouldn't have been able to bust. There's one window but it's so badly covered in grime that I can't get a good look inside," Dean reported.

"So we're going to have to go in the front." Sam rubbed a hand across his face.

"Looks like it."

"Okay. Get back here and we'll figure out a plan." Sam hung up and tucked his cell phone back into his pocket.

"We're not ready to go in there, Sam," Ruby warned.

"We don't have a choice. The longer we wait, the riskier it gets. Lilith could find out we never left and Reggie's dead when she does." They heard the sound of footsteps approaching and held their breaths. A second later, Dean slid around the corner, the collar of his jacket turned up against his neck. "Hey," Sam greeted his brother.

"So, I think we should move now. The longer we wait, the more we risk being seen skulking over here."

"I think we should wait," Ruby hissed.

"Noted. Sam?"

Sam looked down at his feet, staring at the dirty street, unsure of what to say. He knew they needed to move quickly, but that they were also unaware of what was awaiting them inside. "I think we might as well get this over with," Sam finally muttered.

"Okay then. Let's go!" Dean pulled his gun out again and checked the chamber. Sam checked his gun, noting the two rounds of rock salt already loaded. Ruby groaned, but took a position behind Sam. The three of them rushed out into the street, hunched down, stopping behind a parked minivan just past the alleyway. Dean motioned Sam to go first and followed him across the street, where they stopped to crouch behind a black sedan. Ruby followed a second later.

"Looks like there are at least three inside that I can see," Sam whispered. "The blonde and the guy who attacked us at the apartment, and a short, white man in a tuxedo."

"You and Ruby take care of them. I'll head into the back and get Reggie," Dean directed. Without waiting for a reply, he took off running, heading right for the entrance to the bar. Sam hurried after him. He could hear Ruby following close behind them.

They burst through the door and Dean fired a round into the man in the tuxedo, causing the demon to stumble backwards off his chair. Ruby launched herself at the black man and Sam fired a round at the blonde bartender, who ducked. The bullet shattered the glass wall behind her, a waterfall of booze poured down as bottles of liquor exploded too. Dean rushed towards the back of the bar and out of sight. Sam could hear glass shattering and furniture breaking as Ruby wrestled with the man, but didn't spare her a glance, his eyes still focused on the bar.

He raced to the bar and aimed over it, but the blonde was already gone. Sam turned and fired a round into the black man's back, causing the demon to drop to the floor. Ruby held him down as Sam began exercising the demon with his mind, the pain barely registering with him anymore. It took only moments for the man to cough and jerk as black smoke billowed from his mouth.

"That was good, Sam," Ruby said as she got up from the floor, brushing her hands across the thighs of her jeans. Sam nodded at her, but didn't speak. The demon in the tuxedo lay on the floor a few feet away still out from Dean's round to the chest. Sam grabbed the man's lapels and sent the demon inside back to hell before it had time to register what was happening. Sam stood up and looked around the bar. There was a crash from the direction Dean had gone and Sam rushed towards the sound. Just as they passed the bathrooms, Dean appeared, carrying Reggie in his arms.

"Everything okay?" Sam asked as he moved back out into the bar. "What was that crash?"

"I kicked the door open," Dean said nonchalantly. "Let's get the hell out of here." Dean maneuvered past the scattered tables and bar stools and shoved the door open with his foot, Sam and Ruby close on his heels. They ran to the Impala and Dean helped Reggie into the backseat. No one spoke as they jumped into the car and Dean peeled away from the curb. The road was almost completely deserted, making their getaway a little easier.

Dean looked into the rearview mirror at Reggie. "You okay?"

"I'm fine," Reggie replied. Ruby looked over at her and Reggie met the demon's gaze. "I'm guessing this was because of you?"

Ruby nodded. "I heard about the attack and was on my way to check on you guys when I found out they grabbed you from the hospital."

"Then I guess I owe you a thanks."

"Don't mention it," Ruby said, shrugging. She turned and looked out the window. "Pull over up here," she stated. Dean glanced at Sam, but obliged and pulled over to the side of the road in front of a bank. Ruby opened the door and got out.

"Where are you going, Ruby?" Sam asked as he rolled down the window.

"I'll be around, don't worry," she called, disappearing down a dark side street.


	21. Chapter 21

**TWENTY-ONE**

Gradyville, Pennsylvania

January 23rd, 2009

"I'm fine, Dean, really. You don't need to hover," Reggie exclaimed, leaning against the front of the Impala. She waved her hand at him to shoo him away. Although her left arm hung in a sling, Reggie still held the barrel of the gun she was loading gingerly in that hand.

Dean grunted and sat down on the cooler in front of her. "That sling really sells it, you know. You being 'fine'." Reggie rolled her eyes at him and snapped the gun closed. The sound of a branch cracking caught their attention and both of them turned to see Sam come walking out of the woods. "Find anything?" Dean asked.

Sam shook his head. "No, nothing. But this park isn't exactly tiny. There are too many places to look." Sam sighed, stepping up next to Reggie. "So what do we do now?" he asked Dean.

Reggie answered instead. "Well, we have no leads as to what the seal is or how Lilith is going to open it. And any element of surprise you had to mount an attack and take her out is now out of the question thanks to me." She pushed herself away from the car and limped around to the trunk, tossing the gun into the melee of weapons already inside.

"Don't you start that again," Dean growled.

"Dean's right. Don't take the blame, Reggie. We weren't going to leave you to the demons any more than you would have left either one of us," Sam added.

Reggie closed the trunk and shrugged, which made her wince in pain. "That's true, but it doesn't make me feel any better. I'm not used to being the damsel in distress."

"Why does that not surprise me," Dean muttered and Sam snorted. He got up from his seat on the cooler and walked over to where she stood. She smiled weakly at him then turned to stare off into the trees.

"I'm not going to fight with you about this again. Like I said yesterday, it was my choice to be here, to get involved with this fight, and any consequences are my own doing. I'm a hunter and risks are part of the job description, so don't start telling me the fault for any of this is yours," Reggie said. "Last time I checked, demons have never needed a reason to maim and kill." Dean opened his mouth to respond but Reggie quickly put her right hand over it to stop him. "Nope, don't want to hear it." She turned to Sam, who had just opened his mouth to object. "From either of you," she snapped.

Dean took her hand from his mouth and squeezed it. "Okay." He looked over at Sam. "It would have been nice if Ruby could have given us something on this seal."

"You don't need Ruby for that," a voice called. Castiel came striding out of the woods towards them. "The seal is no longer of any importance."

"It isn't?" Sam asked, confused.

"Apparently, your attack on Lilith's headquarters at the bar to rescue Reggie was something she hadn't actually expected. It seems she has abandoned her attempts in the city and has disappeared again."

Dean gaped at the angel. "She's gone? Just like that?"

"It would seem so, yes. After our discussion yesterday, a small battalion of my brothers began assembling to try and stop Lilith from opening the seal. I had just contacted Uriel this morning when there was a sudden change in demon activity in the area."

"What kind of change?" Reggie asked.

"They all left."

"All of them? All the demons just picked up and moved on?" Reggie's voice was incredulous. She saw that Sam and Dean were wearing similar shocked expressions.

"Not _**all**_ of them, no, but an extremely large number of them have just disappeared. It appears that they were drawn here because of Lilith and now that she's left, they no longer feel the need to be here in such numbers." Castiel crossed his arms over his chest and glared at Dean. "I hope you realize how lucky you are."

"What do you mean?"

"You walked into the belly of the beast on a poorly prepared rescue mission, risking all of humanity for one person, and successfully sent Lilith running _**without**_ her opening that seal." Castiel looked over at Reggie, his eyes rolling over her as if appraising the woman.

"Then I guess we are," Sam said, stepping in front of Reggie. He didn't like the way Castiel was staring at her. Sam and the angel glared at each other for a moment. Then Castiel nodded at them once and disappeared without another word.

"I really hate that guy," Reggie mumbled. "I never would have thought angels would be such dicks."

Dean laughed and threw his arm over her shoulders. "You know, Sammy actually said the very same thing," Dean said, grinning broadly. "You chicks really do think alike," he chuckled. Sam punched Dean in the shoulder as Reggie snorted with laughter.

Sioux Falls, South Dakota

January 24th, 2009

"He really does drive like a girl," Reggie stated as they heard Sam finally pull up in front of Bobby Singer's house. Dean laughed and placed his beer on Bobby's coffee table. He got up and headed through the house, stepping outside to greet Sam.

"'Bout time, grandma," Dean cried as he opened the front door. Sam was just getting out of Reggie's Plymouth, but he shook his head at his brother's remark. "We beat you here by over two hours."

Sam jogged up the steps, glaring at Dean. "Only because you were doing eighty the whole way," Sam snapped. Dean grinned and followed Sam inside.

"Ninety, actually," Reggie yelled from the living room. Sam shook his head at her as he stepped into the living room. "Hey Sam."

"Ya get lost?" Bobby called from somewhere upstairs. A few moments later, they heard his heavy footsteps on the stairs. He entered the living room a second later carrying a small black box.

"Ha ha. Get it all out," Sam grumbled, flopping down next to Reggie on the worn couch in the center of Bobby's cluttered living room.

"I just thought that after all the times you boys have come here, ya would know the way by now," Bobby said, chuckling as he lowered himself into his usual arm chair. He held the box in his lap but didn't open it.

"What's in the box?" Sam asked, dying for a change in subject. Bobby glanced at Sam and then nodded at Dean who was flipping through a small, black, leather-bound book, oblivious. Sam looked at Reggie, puzzled, and she rolled her eyes at him.

"A present," she mouthed, nodding towards Dean. Sam blanched when he realized the date. It was Dean's birthday, and not just any birthday, but his _**thirtieth**_ birthday. Their family had never been big on celebrating the little things, like holidays and birthdays, so most of them had passed by uneventfully, quickly becoming just another day on the calendar. But this was the big 3-0 and, considering where Dean should be, it became a very big deal this year.

Sam internally cursed himself for not remembering. Reggie must have sensed his reproach because she smiled at him warmly and pushed him with her shoulder. "Don't worry. I didn't get him anything either," she whispered. "I didn't even know until Bobby said something to me while Dean was in the kitchen getting the beers."

The sudden quiet pulled Dean from the book and he looked up suspiciously at the three hunters sitting across the room from him. "What's going on?"

"Why don't you have a seat, Dean," Bobby stated. Dean eyed them for a moment, then shrugged and strolled over, dropping onto the floor between Bobby's chair and the couch. He leaned back against the base of the couch next to Reggie's legs. "This is for you," Bobby said, handing Dean the black box.

"For me? Why?" Dean asked suspiciously. He frowned at the box Bobby was offering him, but didn't take it.

"Because it's your birthday, ya idjit!" Bobby snapped. Dean blinked at him, surprised and stunned.

Bobby waved the box at him and finally, Dean took it. He looked at the box, then at Sam and Reggie who both said, "Happy Birthday, Dean," in unison, then back at the box.

"I didn't even realize the date," he mumbled. He stared at the box, running his fingers over the lid.

"Well, aren'tcha gonna open it?" Bobby pressed.

Dean nodded and lifted the lid. Inside was an ornate onyx and silver flask "Wow…um…this is really nice. Thanks, Bobby." He looked up at the hunter and smiled.

"I saw that piece of crap ya've been carryin' around all these years and thought it was about time ya got yourself a better one. It's completely poison proof." Dean chuckled at the irony of that statement; Bobby was especially known for putting holy water into his guests' beverages as a precaution.

"I like it. Thanks." Dean handed the flask to Reggie so she could take a look, squirming under the sudden attention. "So aren't you supposed to get cake or something?"

"Yeah, well. I don't bake, so I guess you'll just have to do without," Bobby growled, making everyone laugh. They sat talking and joking for a while and Dean settled back, happy to be out of the spotlight.

The sun had begun to set and they sat surrounded by empty beer bottles when Dean clapped his hands together. "Well, we better hit the road," he declared. He got up from the floor and offered his hand to Reggie, helping her to her feet.

Bobby followed them to the door and held the screen door open. "You boys need anythin', ya know to call me," Bobby stated, clapping Sam on the back.

"Thanks again, Bobby," Dean said, holding up the flask the man had given him. He jogged down the porch steps and headed straight for the Impala. Reggie followed him to the driver's side. Sam and Bobby stood talking on the porch, obviously giving them a little space.

"You sure you don't want to go back home?" Dean asked, turning to face her as he opened his car door.

"Yeah, I'm sure," Reggie replied. "I think it might be safer for me to hang out here and recover first." She looked back at the two men standing on the porch. "Besides, I think Bobby could use the company," Reggie joked. She stared down at her feet, pushing the gravel in the drive around with the toe of her boot.

"I'm not really that great at goodbyes," Dean said, his voice uncomfortable.

Reggie looked up at him. "This isn't goodbye. At least, I hope not." She sighed and Dean smiled at her. "This is just 'see ya'. We _**are**_ going to see each other again, Dean."

"Yeah, I guess we might," Dean said, shrugging. He stuffed his hands into the pockets of his jeans and peered over Reggie's head into the salvage yard behind her. He heard her groan and looked down at her. "What?"

"We're bound to see each other again. Why do you have to be so doom and gloom about everything?"

Dean shrugged. "I'm not trying to be." He leaned back against his car, resting his shoulders against its cold, steel roof.

Reggie glanced over his shoulder at Sam and Bobby, then took a deep breath. "The other night, in the room, when we were…kissing…"

"I think it was a little more than kissing," Dean teased. Reggie snorted and pushed him with her uninjured arm.

"This isn't easy for me to discuss, you know, without you interrupting me."

"Sorry, go on." Dean smirked.

"Well…I stopped for a reason." She took another deep breath and blew it out. "God, this is going to be so good for your ego, I'm sure." She looked at Dean, waiting for him to interrupt her again. He continued to grin, but remained silent. She eyed him for a minute, then shook her head. "Just forget it, it's not important. I'm just having some stupid girlie moment." Still shaking her head, Reggie took a step back, grinning up at him.

"I'm glad I met you, Reggie," Dean stated. "I owe Bobby big for that." He pulled her to him and kissed her once on the lips. "Boy do I owe him," he muttered.

"Take care of yourself, Dean," Reggie said, taking a step back from him again.

"Let's go, Sammy," Dean yelled as he dropped into the driver's seat and started the Impala, the car's engine roaring to life.

Sam jogged down the stairs, zipping up his jacket. "We'll talk to you later, Bobby," he called over his shoulder. "See you around, Reggie." He hugged her gently and squeezed her uninjured arm once.

"See ya, Sam." She hobbled up the steps and stood next to Bobby, watching as Sam got in the car. She waved at them as they drove off, the tires kicking up a cloud of gray dust behind them.

"We could always hang out at Bobby's for a little while longer," Sam finally said as Dean pulled out onto the highway. Dean could feel his brother staring at him, trying to read his face in the darkening car.

"I think it would have been a little crowded."

"It's a big house, Dean." Sam shook his head. "Besides, I don't think Bobby would have minded. I don't think Reggie would have, either."

"Just leave it alone, Sammy," Dean growled lowly. He glanced at Sam and saw his brother watching him.

"I don't get you sometimes," Sam grumbled. "There was obviously something there between the two of you."

"Yeah, well, that 'something' almost got her killed."

"She's a hunter, Dean. Her life's in jeopardy every day. Who better to know the life than another hunter?"

"_**Our**_ lives are a lot more intense, Sam," Dean clarified.

"Okay, that's true, but still. It doesn't mean that you have to push people away." Sam turned in his seat to face Dean, a determined look on his face.

"Look, Sammy. You know I'm not the kind of guy that settles down. I'm all for some fun and an easy getaway. With Reggie, things would…" Dean hesitated, struggling to put the right words together.

"Get complicated?" Sam offered.

"Basically. It would be difficult to keep it just 'fun' with her and I don't think that would be fair."

"Fair for whom?" Sam asked. Dean glanced at him, catching the amused expression on his face before Sam pushed it away. "I get it, Dean. I understand the idea of protecting someone's heart, especially with what has happened in our lives." He sighed and slid back around on the seat. He pulled out his laptop and turned it on.

"Where we headed to next?" Dean asked, changing the subject.

"Well, I found a few newspaper articles dated January ninth about a little town called South Montville, Maine where a man reported finding three of his horses slaughtered in his barn."

"That sounds interesting." Relief flooded through Dean. "What about it caught your attention?"

Sam pulled up the file on his computer. "Well, a Mr. Roger Wentworth reported finding three of his horses dead Monday morning, their necks torn apart. The local police are puzzled by the amount of blood left at the scene. According to the county vet, there wasn't nearly as much as there should have been considering the level of mutilation to the animals."

"Sounds to me like that town has a little vampire problem."

"That's what I thought, too. So what do you say? Think we should go check it out?" Sam asked, looking up at Dean again.

"I say we go kill us some bloodsuckers!" Dean said, pressing down on the gas pedal. The Impala growled in response and they sped off down the black, deserted highway.

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**THE END**

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***So, what did you think? Did I do Mr. Kripke's world some justice? Please, leave me reviews - whether you thought it sucked or it rocked or was just okay. Thanks again for sticking with me and Sam and Dean through this wild ride! Hope y'all will check out me second story "On The Menu."***

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_***Sept. 24, 2010 - Okay, so I listen to a lot of music when I'm writing, but when it comes to Supernatural, there's only one kind of music you can listen to to get the right feel and keep the creative juices flowing: _**_rock and roll!_**_ Now, I know some may not call it their cup of tea, but it is the background for almost all the episodes and I've been a big fan since the days of highchairs and bibs. I grew up listening to Nuegent and Jagger (and then some metal was added in later years - thank you Mr. Hetfield!) and I have an old soul. I've seen a few people put playlists at the ends of their chapters or stories and, while I would love to do this, there is just too much to type out._

_So, if you would like to know what is on my I-pod (or I-tunes depending on which computer I'm writing on) under "Dean Winchester Radio" I will give you some of the artists: AC/DC, Metallica, Lynyrd Skynryd, Rush, Bon Jovi, Motley Crue, Boston, Guns-N-Roses, Skid Row, Styx, Quiet Riot, Queensryche, Night Ranger, The Rolling Stones, Def Leppard, Alice In Chains, Deep Purple, Foreigner, Johnny Cash, Black Sabbath, Whitesnake, Creedence Clearwater Revival, Journey (yes, Journey - Wheel In The Sky was used a few times in the recaps!), and, of course, Led Zepplin and Kansas. Hope that helps anyone who would be wondering!***_


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